“Quiet and shy were me. A broken heart meant being guarded and fragile to the idea of spilling my feelings out like a damn that’s been over filled. I thought that new people would help expose a leak to the damn I built. Would slowly allow the feelings out. I thought it would change me for the better. So I packed a bag and got ready for a weekend, a get together. We all drank. We all laughed. You opened up to me but also opened me another bottle. You did dumb things with me, things I did for fun but things you did to impress me. Another bottle. We ran through the snow in negative weather. Another bottle. We sat by the fire that crackled the way my toes tingled in the heat. Another bottle. Everyone went to bed but there you were. Another bottle. You listened to my diluted thoughts spill with slurred words and pretended to comprehend what I was saying. Wow, it that another bottle. Wait…. really? Another bottle. Another bottle. Another bottle. Alone. We were alone. You made your move like anyone would but even the me who was somewhere else knew enough to say no. Bed time. Your bed. My bed. Why are they separate when I write them. Why did my bed become yours. No. Why did my clothes become yours. No. Why did my lips and skin become yours. No. Why did your hands roam where I only allowed the only person who loved me and broke me touch. No. I was impractical. I thought Intimacy was brought with love. I thought connection was brought with love. That it was supposed to be special. Every time. No. No. No. Why are you not hearing me? Why are you not understanding me. No. Unconscious. Yes. That was me. And you knew. The bottles you fed me like candy to a child. You knew. I was gone while it happened. Or now I wish I was. Because I woke up. Because I had to wake up and realize what you were doing to me. How my friends drove miles to get while they said nothing on the phone but heard cries for what felt like hours. How every song I heard on the way home that night is like playing the soundtrack to a horror movie. How I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror without seeing you on me. How I don’t get drunk to have fun but to forget. How i had to have my friends cuddle me each night to sleep because I needed to feel like I had someone to watch me. How you made me feel like I wasn’t enough to be respected that I disrespect myself now. How now I hear you don’t remember. You don’t remember what happened that night. You. You don’t remember. But I have to. Everyday. I have to remember.”
pixelskylines
tangentwithtanner
jimmyeatworldofficial
germansingergirl
areudirty
