You left me for her.
As if this was some competition.

You left me, the girl you claimed to be in love with, because you had feelings for another girl.
You left me, for someone who loves you less than I do.

As if you weren’t happy enough, and you wanted to try your cards with another girl.
Maybe you liked the chase, or maybe you thought you could see if you could ****** a girl that was older, prettier, whatever feature that I couldn’t provide you with, though I gave you everything I ******* could.
No, not in gifts. But I gave you my all. My time, effort, heart and soul.. You know I had been waiting for you for so ******* long, you just might have thought you could maybe see how you could **** me of my affection until I have nothing else to give, then leave.
Now I’m here, drained, as you’re relaxing, dwelling on another girl’s attention.


“I still care about you.”,
You try to spark up conversations, sometimes.
But other times you ignore me for days.
I see the posts, and pictures, you being tagged when she see’s something cute and is reminded of you.
I heard she spent the night a few times.

As if me coming over for hours on end, holding you, burying my head deep within your chest, and the sweet nothings we’d exchange, wasn’t enough.
Maybe that’s it.
Maybe I wasn’t enough.
Though I spoiled you which everything I could.
Whether it be my love or myself as a whole.
I made sure every hour of every day we were together, you knew you were loved.
I never let you be alone.

And here I am.
With nothing.
No one.

I sacrificed friendships, plans made, people on hold.
Scheduled work around school hours to be able to visit you whenever I possibly could convince my parents to drive me 30 minutes to your house and back.
Because I wanted to love you and be loved in return.
And now I’m the one that’s alone.

Do you know how ******* hard it is to have a disorder with no cure?
“It’s all in your head.”, because it’s so complex that doctors can prescribe anything for you, of course shock therapy isn’t a thing anymore.

I look down at my hands and think, “Is this real?” Of course it’s ******* real, stop being irrational.
But, why doesn’t it feel real?
I’ve been eating fine, sleeping ok, taking my medicine. Why do I feel as if my brain is not connected with my body?
Well, maybe it is. Maybe a part of me just isn’t here anymore.
I don’t know how to explain it. I just feel, off. I’m not me. I’m not anything. I can feel the oblivion in my veins. My sense of reality is gone, and I don’t know what to do with myself.

I can see what’s going on, and I do have control over my actions, but my thoughts are a jumble and some tastes, smells, etc don’t feel the same.
I miss myself.
I miss myself so badly.
Don’t get me wrong, clinical depression and such has kind of guided me towards self hatred, but I’d rather feel self hatred, than feel, this.
Feel everything at once, yet feeling nothing at all.

I’m reckless. I say what I want, do what I want, because nothing feels real.
I even dropped out of school, quit my job, all at 16 and I stay home trying to play video games to distract myself.
Distracting myself always seems to be the best solution. It holds me back from the temptation of just laying on my floor, crying and screaming, just wanting to feel normal. Feel whole.

I can sometimes have normal conversations. Sometimes. Very rarely unless it’s someone very close. Even family members I avoid speaking to in general.
Calen has been helping me, alot. Mostly distracting me. He understands my needs in general, and doesn’t insist on my spilling my emotions to him. He just supports me through it all. If I need to cry, if I need to laugh, he’ll be there.
He’s honestly the only person, well the only thing that has made me think twice.

Now, I’ve laid on the floor, screaming to the moon and to any higher power that might be out there to make me feel sane.

But Calen has seemed to be the only thing that makes me feel, real.
Like, continuing life is actually purposeful.
You could give me a list of things I could do with my life, and amazing things I could accomplish, but all I have to do is talk to him for 5 minutes, even if we talk about nothing of the sort, and I’ll feel the need to live another 24 hours.

As if my burnt lungs, swollen heart, and pill filled stomach disintegrated into little fragments of sand, pouring effortlessly down my spine.
Feeling so empty, yet gaining the weight of constant regret, pain, and sadness as the sand sinks down to my waist.
An endless hourglass, feeling everything I’ve ever felt, thickly gliding through my body, only to pile up heavier, and heavier, until I can’t move.
The inability do anything but feel it draining and filling me as a whole.
No solution, the sand will not run out, not until the day I die, the day I am at peace. A constant reminder of what I feel, everything at once, yet, nothing at all.