Sketches

I thought we could come out of this as friends. At least eventually. At least, until you twisted the knife even deeper, scraping it down these ribs of mine and creating permanent scarring. Only you're incredibly cunning, because you constructed those scars where they don't show. It allows you to keep playing the victim, if people can't see the pain you deliberately cause.

Explain your reasons and mumble your excuses as to why you do the things you do. You're excellent at justifying how it is okay to constantly make me suffer. Is it not enough that you have taken away my life, the very reason I'm still struggling to breathe each day, the reason why; when I'm suffocating in an endless abyss, makes me frantically scramble to find even footing and clamber my way back out on top?

Do you have to continue making the pain as extreme as you can? Twist that knife a little deeper honey, it's what you've become so good at. Go on, twist it, yank it out and push it back in even deeper. Why would I mind? It's only my heart that you're slowly cracking into bits after all.

I wanted to paint new sketches tonight. Did you know? I wanted to splash dashes of paint over the first attempts and create a whole new canvas, and trace new swirls and loops in the attempt of it turning out even better than the first one. Because of course, practice makes perfect, right? I wanted to sketch this landscape to the point it was all I could think about. It suffocated me and I couldn't breathe and rational was the furthest thing from my mind.

I wanted to sketch. I didn't. I didn't because someone who hasn't even known me for half a year showed more support, love, patience and care than you ever did in our entire relationship. He saved me. He saved me from the demons inside my head that you purposefully sent back in there with a slingshot. He saved me. At least, for tonight.

You waited until the worst moment of my entire existence-the time when I don't even want to live.. to show exactly what you are capable of and just how little you really think of me. I never really understood the concept of kicking someone when they are down until tonight. I guess I'm stupid to still care about you after all the heartache and trouble you have caused.

And the question I am asking myself right now, isn't why did I allow myself to trust you, or to let you into my heart. It isn't even why did I ever love you. But the question I can't wrap my head around is why do I {still} love you, after everything you have done to me. Because you clearly don't care in the slightest, you got over this so suddenly and willingly cause so much hurt that I'm starting to question if you ever really did.

I just want one night where my pillows don't become soaked and my eyes aren't glassy and swollen by the morning. I just want one night, where I can fall asleep peacefully. One night...where it doesn't hurt anymore.