if only emotional abuse scarred my skin the way physical abuse did, because maybe then you'd see that your words and your demeanor are the reason why you say i have issues with channeling my anger
maybe if your screams bludgeoned my skin the way a punch would destroy the filaments under my tender flesh, you'd notice how much you're hurting me
and it scares me that you can't even see what you're doing
it scares me that one day i'll be one scream away from erratically fainting to my demise, falling effortlessly to the floor, heart still beating in my chest and brain activity picking up faster than ever before
it scares me that you're not scared
your words are like knives carving my organs with cynical words
"worthless" is inscribed through the hemispheres of my brain
"damaged" is engraved into my lungs
i can't breathe
and im beginning
to not feel anything
anymore

i used to write about him
endlessly
in tattered journal pages
and in cheesy poems
but i didn't want to admit it

i didn't want to admit
the fact that he was gone
and writing him into paper
wasn't going to bring back
the person i once knew

i didn't want to admit
that i wasn't in love-
that instead, i was cold and lonely
for endless summer nights
in the pitch black vacuum of my room
when everyone else was sound asleep
and i should've been, too
i guess at that time
i just didn't want to admit
the fact that i was too busy writing
to realize i was just lying to myself

so this is me finally admitting it-
this is my apology letter
for blindly lying to myself,
for believing the miserable lie
that writing about him
would bring us back to life

because so far it hasn't worked
and i'm undeniably sick
of lying to myself
and ignorantly believing it will

you told me you aren't capable of loving me
you aren't capable of loving anyone
but then you go off and provide her with your own beating heart, you tear out your lungs and diffuse your blood of oxygen in order to let her breathe
then to revive yourself from the torture your body endures in order to keep her up and running you beat my tender skin mercilessly, unaware that it is human skin you're destroying and a child's mind your instilling with harsh memories of pain and desertion
a child's mind who will grow up to be seventeen **** years old, accepting herself as a lower rank on the scale of human worth than those who are prettier than her,
always second priority to those who are worthy of your love
you killed me in a seventeen year long mission to destroy something you destroyed a long time ago
i saw you look at her while she cried, and you could almost feel her pain
a tear actually slid from your eyes, your eyes that you swore to me were never capable of doing such, because it's just "not who you are"
but i know who you are
you're a weak, spineless, emotional wreck, desperate to fulfill prophecies that you were never capable of fulfilling on your own
turns out you are capable of loving someone
but you were right about it not being able to be me

look at her crying
now look at me dying
are you proud of your work?

everyday i wake up, stare at the inside of my eyelids and search for a feeble reason to scrape open my tired eyes, get out of bed, and start yet another day, alive.
i always find myself searching for reasons of why i am alive, and why i should continue to be, trying to numb the stinging in my chest from the ***** that fails to pump blood through my arteries at times, battered and worn out
im looking im looking i've spent my entire existence looking for something that doesnt even ******* exist
and i hate searching for these meaningless answers because i am so disgustingly aware we are all trying to find them and i hate the idea that i am living my life just as every other human being is
even my pain is unoriginal
i sit in my room and i write poetry on my laptop, not trying to make sense of the world but just trying to unfold my tangled mind that does not seem to understand any information being inputted inside of it on a day to day basis
i sit in my room writing about a world that doesn't even deserve to be written about
the world is a mess and the world is selfish and i don't know how things used to be but i know as of right now the sun doesn't shine, it burns with hellfire and seems to radiate waves of hate down upon the biosphere, burning and scathing the flesh of worthless creatures attempting to live undominated, "happy" and "successful" lives
the wind doesn't blow beautifully through my hair, the wind blows in an attempt to push me off a cliff, to guide me towards my own self-destruction and to remind me of how easily things can fall apart
see the world is not beautiful
the world just exists
any kind of meaning i am trying to establish in my writing is just a lie, there isn't a single aspect to this life that naturally means something and after all this time i continue to spill empty words onto a blank screen hoping it will fill the area in my chest that lacks substance, but my heart continues to bleed
my brain is deteriorating and i can't feel anything anymore

im looking for you
searching for you in his eyes, in the water, in my favourite books, in the customers who come into work, in the bubble sheets of my tests, in the windows of cars passing by, in the grass, in the sky
looking for you on my fingertips, in the strands of my hair, in between my toes, in the cracks of my smile
i seem to see you everywhere i look
in everything
in everyone
but you've been gone for months
and my mind can't stop placing you in every aspect of my life
my mind can't forget how completely enthralled the adventure of our relationship had me
i want to see you
and i do see you
but when will you really be there?

remember that time when you were eight at the beach, having so much fun tripping over the waves of brine and all of the sudden you were interrupted by one huge, everlasting upsurge that swept you underneath it, leaving you gasping for air and filling your lungs with its acidic solution
and then you tried to get up but then another wave crashed on you
and another
and another
and all of a sudden your whole universe isn't even recognizable, your eyes fill with sand and you can barely grasp the world around you as it slurs into an aquatic disaster
i think that feeling is exactly what it feels like to live in this world as an adapting sentient human being
i think that once you really get hit with that one, huge obstacle, you just get hit with another,
and another ,
and another
until you're forced to question why you even feel the need to get past it in the first place
why not just sink
why keep fighting to stand up again why is it important that i revive my suffocating lungs why can't i sit until my body absorbs all the water, shriveling my skin from my fingertips to my toes
i want to lay here
harmoniously flowing through corrupted waves
no longer learning how to swim
but how to peacefully and tranquilly
drown