Good Girls Go To Hell Anyway
18 years spent giving it my all, just to watch myself stumble and fall. Struggling just to crawl, talking to myself and listening like a brick wall.
Trauma took up space and my determination began to decay. My good girl habits slipped away, gave my attention to anything, anything that would be disturbed by distraction.
Locked my memories in a drawer, walked the halls in the shoes my therapist would later unlock. Sat in classrooms sick to my stomach, your mind can hide it but your nervous system never forgets.
My mind was shattered but I only looked at matters of the heart. Suddenly letters on paper only mattered if I wrote them. Writing everything I could to ruin him.
I added everything correctly, did the division but arithmetic was not going to fix this. Zoning out in chemistry but periodically trying to figure out what elements I missed.
My empathy executed me academically, sent vocabulary words to a vulture. Too scared to cheat, but easily manipulated into assistance.
Couldn’t commit the crime so I became an accessory.
Thought I was playing it safe and still ended up drained. You can do everything right and still carry the blame.
Might as well be the bad guy, good girls go to hell anyway.
-S.M.M. (Me)
