It’s so Strange…

It’s so strange how a good thing goes bad in an instant.

All the good memories are flooded with the bad, with the lies, the abuse, the hurt.

It’s so strange how one can fall out of love so quickly. I’ve never been that one.

I love with my whole heart, I put my all into relationships – but then they end.

I know it’s for the best as I look back at all the things he couldn’t give me. Not even flowers – imagine that!

So I walked away, painfully, but it needed to be done. My heart still aches for him despite all the bad.

Food has no taste, all I want to do is sleep, but then I dream of him and force my body to wake up just to find another distraction. Anything to keep my mind off the hurt.

I loved him, and he would say it back. But he never really knew what love was. If he loved me, he wouldn’t yell at me. He wouldn’t disappear for days at a time, blatantly ignoring my messages.

If he loved me, he would’ve changed. But I can’t wait for change. I can’t wait on him to be the man I thought he was. That’s not fair for either of us.

It’s so strange when you picture a future with someone, but as time goes on it becomes dimmer and dimmer to non existent…

Anxiety

Tossing & Turning

Waiting for Morning

Waiting for a Distraction

Any Distraction

 

My Ribs are Caving In

Butterflies Racing in My Stomach

My Heart Racing Faster

When Will This End?

 

I am Nervous

I am Afraid

I am Powerless

 

The Anxiety in My Head

Attacking My Body

No Relief

No Peace

No Serenity

 

Only Anxiety

Her Spirit

Her spirit knows there is something wrong before it is physically manifested.  She has anxious, looming thoughts and feelings about the future.  At night, her body curls up as she dreams of the depressing inevitable.  She awakes, shaking, feeling a tear slide down her cheek.  “No”, she begs.  “Please no…”

The days continue on, the same foreboding ache in her heart.  She tries to ignore it, ignore the signs.  But then. it’s too late.  It is physical, it is real, it has been verbalized into the world.  There is no going back.

Her spirit warned her, tried to protect her heart.  And yet, there was still hurt.  Instead of nightmares, her nights were filled with tears.  Crying until there was nothing left to cry about.  Food lost taste, the sun didn’t bring her joy, she stopped leaving the house.

Her spirit knew what was coming, but a warning didn’t help her broken heart.  Months would go by, full of sadness, loneliness and depressive thoughts.  But one day, her spirit reassured her, she would be whole again.  The hurt would be gone, her brokenness would be healed, and she could live & love once again.

 

If Only He Loved Me…

If he loves me, he will try.

If he loves me, he won’t yell.

If he loves me, he will communicate.

If he loves me, he will listen.

If he loves me, he won’t leave.

But –

If he does not, he will walk away.

 

If I love myself, I will not let his anger affect me.

I can not wait for change, when the waiting is what hurts.

It hurts,

aches,

stings my heart.

If only he loved me…

 

 

Maybe I am Worthy of Love

The breeze from the open car window grazed my face, blew my long hair back and seemed to clear my mind with its purity.  I closed my eyes, enjoying the softness of the air that brought freedom to my spirit.  The sun kissed my face, warming my skin and undoubtedly forcing my freckles to become darker.

And yet, my heart still ached.

Peace lasted but moments until my mind circled back to our relationship and its brutal ending.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so Momma kept dragging me out of the house after the break up, trying to cheer me up… Words can’t explain how thankful I am for her, but I wasn’t ready to cheer up.  Yes, it had already been a month after he left me, but it was normal to still be hurting- right?

Our relationship seemed so perfect to me, so completely full of joy and adventure!  But looking back it wasn’t as dreamy as I had imagined…  We honestly didn’t have a single thing in common.  Our conversations would lull to silence after having listened to him talk about cars for hours upon hours.  I didn’t know anything about cars!  Hell, I drove a ‘99 4 Runner and the check engine light was always on – but it worked, didn’t it?  What more was to be said?

We never talked about anything real, like our biggest fears and dreams.  We didn’t talk about God or the meaning of life or how the heck the earth came into creation.  We never did anything but makeout and drive around town.  How pathetic.

One day, he told me he wanted to marry me, that I was the girl of his dreams after just two months of dating!  Crazy, huh?

I thought he was it!  That I had met my person, but I was so wrong.  So naive, irrational and unrealistic! I thought we were in love, my eyes were blinded to the obvious – we were oh so wrong for eachother in almost every single way.

And yet, I was still hurting.

Was I heartbroken over Tristan or heart broken for myself?  Heart broken that my idea of a perfect relationship might not exist?  Heartbroken that I may endure hundreds of  nasty breakups until I find the one?  But who even knows if the man I’ve been looking to spend the rest of my days with is even out in the world!  What if I never find a man who wants to live life with me?  What if I am unlovable, undesired, unworthy?

I can’t go there.  That thought is completely unbearable.

“Abs?”  Momma’s voice freed me from my tiring thoughts.

“Hun, you have got to stop crying over him.  He isn’t worth all these tears.”  She gave me a worried look from behind the wheel.  Her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles turning white.

I touched my cheek, feeling the tears that fell from my eyes.  I hadn’t even realized I was crying.

“I know Momma, I’m sorry.”  I wiped the tears I had let fall one too many times. The car slowed as Momma took the exit onto Briargate boulevard.  I watched the sun waning in the sky, creeping lower in the sky to inevitably hide behind the mountains… But I didn’t want the sun to go down.  Nighttime always brought me more pain, more fear, more anxiety, more haunting dreams and thoughts…

“Where to first Abby?  Francesca’s or Sephora?”

Both good options,  “Let’s do Francesca’s first, that way I can find a matching lipstick at Sephora after if I buy a new outfit.”  I gave Momma a pathetic smile that she accepted warmly.

Therapy shopping.  Story of my life.  Whenever I am  too depressed to leave the house, my friends and family lure me out through the temptation of shopping.  I have no idea why, but spending money has always made me feel better.  Until the bills come in of course…

Buying a new dress, new makeup, a pair of earrings, new shoes – literally anything makes me feel better.  If I look good, I feel good.  And maybe my looks will help me find a new man someday who truly loves me.  Who is actually good for me.  If I am pretty enough, maybe, just maybe, I will be worthy of love.

 

Reality

Reality sucks,

I hate it…

But I know it is coming for me.

I am perfectly comfortable

Living in the romanticism in my mind,

The dreams of my heart

And hopes for the future.

But now,

Everything feels like it’s crumbling –

Down, down, down…

Into the depths of despair.

I am scared.

 

I am scared of the realities of heartache.

I am scared of what is to come.

I am scared of starting over.

I am scared to forget…

But even more so to remember.

To remember the feel of his lips,

Of his hands

Gently searching my body

 

I am scared of pain.

The stabbing,

Burning,

Aching agony of the heart,

When it breaks

Reality will come for me,

It will come for my heart.

I am not ready for reality –

 

 

Spiraling

Spiraling

Into madness.

My brain

So anomalistic

Idiosyncratic

Unparagoned

Encumbered.

It hurts

Oh how it hurts.

My thoughts

Cut through my mind

Sharp

Painful

Bloody…

I’m bleeding.

A cocaphony

In my brain.

Loud, confusing, caustic.

I’m spiraling

Down

Down

Deeper still.

Indelicate black tunnels

Pull me farther in.

I can’t see now.

I feel the ghosts

Of my past

Tug at me.

I’m pulling apart.

Spiraling into

Lurid dreams.

I’m not dreaming.

I’m failing.

I’m guilty, lost, crazed, unsure.

The spiral is long,

I’m still falling deeper,

Deeper still.

Talk to Me

Talk to me

Say something

One word

Just one

Please…

I need –

I need to know

Where you stand

With me.

Say something.

What do you feel,

What do you think,

What have I done wrong…

I want to explode

I want to rip my hair out

One by one.

These thoughts

They attack me

Like a swarm of bees

Like a hurricane

Like fire.

I’m burning

Slowly melting

into

Nothing.

My body shakes

With fear

Of what you’ll say.

But just say it.

My heart may shatter

My life may end

But I need to know.

Talk to me…

I Think, I Don’t Think by Robert M. Drake

I think

you like the idea

of feeling

too much,

of experiencing

too much

and letting the things

inside you

float away.

I think

you want people

to notice you

but want others

to think that

isolation pumps through

your veins.

I think

you care

too much

but you pretend

as if

nothing bothers you.

I think

you want people

to miss you

but only

the right ones.

I think

you like breaking

apart

but only because

you know by morning

you’ll be

yourself again.

I think

you like being chased

because you want

to be saved

and loved

with the same intensity

an earthquake

would bring.

I think

you want the world

to remember you

but you don’t have

the slightest clue

on becoming memorable.

I think

you want delicate hands

to surf over

your skin

but you think

you’re too hard

for soft hands.

I think

of all these things

and it couldn’t be

more true,

that like me,

you just need someone

to catch you

and tell you

how much they know you –

to reveal

little things about you,

that you

yourself ignore.

I think

the star in you

wants to give light

to other people

and I think

I need it

to help me

find my way.

And, like you,

I think

and feel these things

deeply…

and I know we need

each other…

if ever,

we think

we want

a proper shot

at love.

See Me

You don’t see me.

You see your expectations of me.

You see a version of me that you want,

Or expect me to be.

 

They say “She’s a whore”,

“She’s dumb”

“She’s a bitch”

“She’s selfish”…

You don’t see me.

 

I don’t fit into a box,

I’m hard to understand,

I’m uniquely me.

The world refuses to see me.

Refuses to even try to understand my heart

Because I don’t fit a “type”.

 

They force stereotypes onto me.

Bombard me with skewed perceptions,

Hideous expectations.

They make me believe the lies.

No one sees me.

 

It’s lonely,

Knowing that the world

Doesn’t want to see me.

People I thought were friends,

People I was in love with,

Never knew me.

They never tried.

 

I just want

Someone

To

See 

me… 

 

 

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