I don't know what happened, what destroyed us. One morning she woke up and they were no sympathy in her words anymore
Just everything she said felt as if she was pouring alcohol as she ripped all my wounds open again.
And that's the thing, she knew me. She knew exactly what to say to hurt me the immense way she thought I deserved to be hurt
Its been a year something something but I still don't know why.
I don't why, I question it often. Not only love wise, but also friendship wise. Its silly how much power we can hand over to someone
I need someone who would feel genuinely hurt too when they hurt me, not someone who says sorry to ease their conscience.
I have never touched love with my own hands, haven't felt it kick in my stomach, haven't seen it cry during the night
But I do know how good I am at loving all the bad things
I know self-hate, and self-destruction in a way most would find terrifying.
and I am not ashamed,
I'm not ashamed to admit I have
spent more days trying to figure out
the most harmless way to end it all,
than I've spent living
I haven't given up on myself,
not because I don't want to
but because there is a force inside
myself I can't get rid of
I was born a warrior
and you can't cheat destiny
---
*desahogo is the spanish term used for when you're pouring your soul out.
