I let him in
Through the back door

He alone
Holds the password.

Seldom knocks
But often enough;

Through the tiny peephole
Of the unresolved,

I take the chain
Off the door.

I keep my skirt
While he unbuttons my heart

That door policy is rough
But he earns my trust;

That love hurts
'Til a gentle push.

Unlock
The secrets to my core;

The fissure
Of pleasure

For a full-frontal
Of my soul.

He sneaks
In the back door

Only he knows
The password;

No one is welcome
But one.

Dear  School,

I hope you’re doing well even though you made me absolutely hate myself and made me feel like if I didn’t get good grades that I wasn’t worth any of your time or attention. We’ve had so many memories together, none of which I want to relive, all of which reduce me to tears. My favourite part was when you’d ask me for my opinion and if my opinion wasn’t the same as yours then you best believe I’d either get shut down or punished.

When I first met you, you told me you’d love me with all your heart. You even talked to my parents and promised them that you wouldn’t disappoint. You sold yourself to my parents and they looked at you like you were worth exactly five hundred thousand bucks (not including all the “romantic” trips you made me pay for). The fact that you promised me more than you could afford should have been a warning signal but I couldn’t see past your charming demeanour. Our relationship was always ups and downs, but lately, it’s gotten a lot worse, and by lately I mean the past two years.

I gave you solutions but you ended up just giving me more problems. Our relationship was a lot of give and take, except the only thing you were giving me, was bad food and mental breakdowns. And the only thing you’d do that was remotely close to taking something from me was leaching off of my successes and money for your benefit.  

I would wander into your bathroom stalls on the verge of a panic attack, time and time again, and even if you noticed, you were really good at ignoring it. You got what you wanted because of my hard work, but I’m still the one who ended up getting more depressed. Isn’t it funny how I’m supposed to miss you, yet everyone that’s left you is so much happier without you? You never listened to my problems, you never cared about my mental health, and you never wanted anything good for me (and if you did, your actions never showed it), you were like the toxic boyfriend I never asked for.

You were so good at showing us off to the public which is probably why I still stayed with you, you put me in newspapers when I did well and your empty eyes danced with lies and a smile crept across your face when you met my parents. My parents loved you so much. My parents would praise you and I let them because how could I tell them that I hated you, that I didn’t want to be with you anymore when you deceived them with all your manipulative tricks. You weaved a web of deception and trapped more and more victims, but you were never satisfied you always wanted more.

I cried to my parents, one day, telling them that I couldn’t get myself out of bed to go to you again, that every minute I spent with you took a toll on my mental health. That I couldn’t be with you no matter how much I tried, but of course the blame came back on me. They would ask me how I couldn’t appreciate you when you took such good care of me. They asked me how I couldn’t appreciate you when you displayed my name across a wall, with numbers scribbled beside name as if I was a barcode number for a new product on the market. Before my parents could confront you, you had already called them and told them that you were concerned about me, that you were just trying to save me from myself, that you loved me. Then why didn’t I feel loved, if you loved me so much then why didn’t you do anything when you saw that I was struggling, why did you ignore all my cries for help, why did you turn me against my own parents.

I wish I could leave you but I’m tied to you with these invisible strings that have cut deep into my ankles and wrists, I will never really get rid of you, the scars will always stay. I can’t leave you, a part of me doesn’t even want to because you’ve brought so many amazing people into my life, and I reminisce about the first years of our relationship when we were madly in love. I remind myself of the times you took me on trips, surprised me with ice cream, and all your spontaneous outbursts of speeches that left me more in love with you even when I was mad. My friends say I don’t give people enough second chances, well, this time I’m giving you 228 more, so please don’t make me regret it.

I will still love you no matter how many times you make me feel worthless because how can I ever stop loving someone I’ve spent seven years with.

Thanks for everything,

sad gal

I am not what you have made out of me in your head at 2 am when you were thinking about the very specific way I wear my heart on my sleeve. I'm not a fact that states that I'm a very expressive person. Trust me when I say you don't want to know how I would express my thoughts of you, so don't try to define my lines when they aren't very clear, not even to me.

Energies from one to another
are powerful and fluid
Just like a radio
They are used in the same manner
to share feelings and news
However noble
no one ever watches how the use
such a powerful force
that another hurts another
even through another
misunderstanding the voice over the air waves
until the designated listener is destroyed in silent craves
that some sick or some angered chose to use as a weapon
to silence another energy not quite as shady or
as of what form of disease that the announcer directs
their audiences at..
After such voices, from the announced message, are silenced
There goes another misunderstood energy and voice
over your "empathic radio receiver" which was people
never took time to weigh out the true power or reason of
makes the subject dedicated to from all of the announcer's
"sources and feeling"
Die in vein from treason.

Carve your sorrows in my skin
Writing the words I’ve already spoken
Break them down and be free
There’s no point
There is no point.
Be free.