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Sometimes

My Soul Spilt Onto a Page

Sometimes, I wonder if you can love again after being that hurt. After experiencing an event in which no one should ever have to go through. I wonder if there’s a way to close back all the wounds that were ripped open and left to bleed, without having scars left over. I wonder if there’s some alternate universe where the love I had wasn’t manipulated and used. I wonder if there was some way where I could remove you from my bone marrow and not have to endure the pain of surgery.

Sometimes, I want to scream at the top of my lungs at you. I want to slam my fists against your chest and try and inflict as much physical pain as you did to me, but just emotionally. I wonder if there’s a way I could hurt you, a way I could damage you like you have done to me. But I don’t think there is. I think I gave myself to you like a blank piece of paper, and all you did was crumple me up and tear me to shreds. I wanted to be a writer before I met you, and after you I wanted to be nonexistent. I wanted to crawl into the cracks of my concrete floor and just exist among the nothingness that’s there. I wanted to seep into the ground and just disappear.

For days after your wake of destruction, I slept but I was consumed by nightmares. My stomach was at war with the morsels of food I ate and immediately wanted to get rid of them, like a live grenade had been thrown to me. Sometimes, I feel like my old self again, like you were never there to burn me alive and spread the ashes in the wind. I wonder if there’s a way I can remove the memory of your existence from my skull without causing permanent damage to the rest of my brain. I wonder if the me after you will ever recover.

I remember the me before you and it makes me want to cry. I remember being able to drive around at night without glancing around to make sure I’m not being followed. I remember initiating contact and not flinching like I had been burnt. I remember laughing and loving carefree and not worrying about the consequences. With you, my love was thrown away. There were more pros than cons, but I fell for you anyways. I thought you would catch me, but you just let collapse on the ground. The frostbite from your frozen love will never heal, no matter how much I want it to. 

Sometimes, I want to give up. I want to break every screen I have and delete the archives of my works forever. Sometimes, I want to run away and live where no one knows my name and no one will ever have to see the visible changes you made in my heart. I feel like a portion of my heart has been tainted by your decayed hands, I feel like there is rat poison in my head from the promises you whispered to me when I was laying with you. I feel like I cannot decipher where the truth was and where your lies started. I wonder if I will ever be okay again. I wonder…

But I know I will. Even if I have to carve out your name from my hippocampus and smash my phone to bits because even though I deleted the pictures of us, your very presence still stains the device. I will be okay again. I just don’t know when.

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Sometimes
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