Tell me not to think of you anymore, tell me to disappear without a trace.
Tell me to shut the **** up, that you don't even want to think of my face.

See I can't stop until I'm embarrassed, apparently I haven't reached that threshold yet.
Tell me you're so mad you can't bare it, that every minute of your time went to waste.

Tell me you don't like me, don't sugar coat it like you tend to do, tell me to go back to whatever hell I came from and that you'll be better off if I'm far away from you.

this skincare saved me once—
smoothed the rough parts,
made me glow
in ways I hadn’t felt before.

I called it a miracle.
kept using it
long after it stopped working.
long after it started
making my skin worse.

because once,
it healed me.
and I thought that meant
it always would.

but one day,
I knew—
I can't hold on
just because it once made me whole.
I can’t keep hoping
it’ll heal me again.
so I let it go.
walked away.
that was the day I woke up.
the day I chose myself.

then I tried something new—
something gentler,
something right for who I am now.
and suddenly,
my skin felt alive again.

that’s when I realized:
it was never just skincare.
it was comfort,
it was memory,
it was fear of letting go.

but healing isn’t meant to hurt.
even when it once helped.