Today I stopped giving a shit.

And I’m fucking happy.

Not that anybody fucking reads my shit on here, but, damn. Somebody tell me when it’s real. When does “I love you” actually mean anything? When will I be the only one on someone’s mind? When will my eyes be the center of his world, the way his eyes will become mine? Why does it always seem like it’s my fault? Fuck! Fuck relationships! Fuck friends! I don’t have anyone. Sure, there’s the few people you can connect with and then let them inside but when will they stay? No one can leave me if I don’t let them in. Do I really want to live like that? Alone and isolated… That can’t be my only option. My fucking heart is broken. I’ve been warned not to invest every ounce of my happiness in another person. Warnings don’t do much, though, breakups happen anyways and the most recent one just makes the old ones hurt even more. I don’t even miss Nile, though. I’m exhausted and I’m damaged beyond repair. I can’t trust anyone. Who’s fault is that? It’s fucking hilarious, I close my eyes and who do I see but the one I lost too soon. We met in October, got along so well, his eyes were like icy fire and his kiss was electrifying. But whatever he saw in me must have triggered something he missed about another girl because the next thing I knew, November was just around the corner and I was alone again. I’ll tell you what, finding a re-bound hurts you more than the person you’re using. Do you know how fucking scary it is, knowing you don’t have a clue who you are unless you’re selling yourself to another person? Constantly convincing someone of your worth? I can’t even convince myself that I’m worth it. Some assholes during lunch today decided it’d be a great idea to talk about a girl who decided she was gonna kill herself, and how stupid that was. How she’s “a liar” and “needs serious help”. Did they even have a fucking CLUE what it’s like to be that person? Maybe they have been that low but not to the point of really going over the edge. I swallowed an entire bottle of pills and found myself strapped to a bed in a white room with nothing but a food tray near me and a several dick-ish doctors constantly barging in my room, demanding to know what I’d done. They wouldn’t let me leave to go take a piss, oh and on the bright side I had a lovely case of the “my vagina is hemorrhaging oh great”. It fucking sucked. In the days when I’d felt the strongest urge to slit my throat, having to grit my teeth and convince these assholes I was safe and wasn’t going to die. Why did they even care? Why the fuck does anyone EVER act like they care? Humor me, please. Tell me when the bullshit ends and someone will genuinely care about me. Love me. I got told so many times that I’m so dramatic, maybe I sound “done” or “pissed” but I my eyes are vigorously fighting the tears that are streaming down my face. It’s like I can’t control it anymore. I feel so numb inside, I don’t want anyone to get in and if they do, well they can get the fuck out before I actually WANT them there. Because as soon as I give a piece of my heart to you, I’m sure you’ll just spit on it and toss it on the ground like every other asshole I’ve ever loved. Maybe I sound like a bitter bitch. Trust me, trust is one of those things I’ll never be able to give. Not anymore. Not after this. I feel like I can’t breathe and I just want to know….

When will I be okay? When will this get better? Is this angst just a phase, bound to fade away in the years to come? Will moving hundreds of miles away solve anything? Can I re-create who I am? Can I make myself a better person? Will my eyes ever be the center of your world?

So we just get back together and you break up with me over text while you’re three states over just to tell me you’re hopelessly in love with my best friend? Okay, cool, you didn’t have to add in that last part where you said you never truly loved me. I hope that every time we FUCKED, and you were thinking of HER, it killed you inside. I hope you choke. I HATE YOU. Alright, I’m done ranting, I’ll just go and be stoned out of my mind for the rest of this year.

Fuck you, Nile Cook.

I think if I fail,

It doesn’t mean that it’s not meant to be.

I think if I died,

Honestly your love would mean so much more to me.

And I know the rules

Don’t apply to this

I’m defeated by you

But you’re not big.

What’s the point of hiding if I’m just not enough?

I’d give anything to see your face and not fall in love.

I’ve still got the poem you wrote in my notebook. That painting you made when you were little is hanging on my wall. The big stuffed dog you gave me is what I snuggle with when I sleep. The Orchid you gave me on Valentine’s day, it’s still blooming, still beautiful. That chocolate rose is still perched up on my desk. Your golden bracelet is still clasped around my wrist. The pictures of my friends & I, you sharpied all over, remember? It’s still taped there in the corner of my mirror. The coke cans you drained still sit there, by the lamp, in fact I think they’re actually stuck. The shoelaces you gave me? I still use them as my belt. Those pictures we took, kissing, they’re still on my memory card. That pink lighter you left in my pocket, still lights up every cigarette. You’re still here, I can feel it. You’re not gone, nor is this over, when it’s so real, so much evidence, so much memorabilia to keep me intoxicated. Your scent still lingers on my pillow. I still love you. And my heart? I don’t know where it went, you took it… When you left.