What's Left
in silence.
I tried, I really did- telling myself I could do it. Convincing myself it was worth it. It doesn’t work. Sometimes it's better to let it fade, but for the life of me, I don’t know how. I can’t figure it out. Whatever it is that’s incomplete, scattered, lost. It’s me, I realized. Not you. I’m not enough. I’ll compare myself endlessly- every detail on display: body, face, eyes, lips; ugly, broken, useless. Waste of space. It burns. The envy inside. Why couldn’t that be me? Why can’t it be easy? Why did I think I had a chance? Because you told me to trust you. And I did. You played the act long enough to convince them you’re the gentle martyr. A joke. A fool to believe you. A disaster if I continue to trust you. Yet day after day, I sit here and let myself be drawn back to you, as if nothing happened. As if I didn’t shatter when you turned around and walked away. When you went about life like nothing happened. As if you didn’t make me second guess myself, just when I finally had ground to stand on. Now I sit here in doubt and self hatred, with everything that was left unspoken, wishing again and again I could wipe you from everything. I shouldn’t feel bad for you. I shouldn’t have let you come back. Everything I had worked towards, you destroyed so quickly. And I don't have it in me to rebuild— only to watch someone else do it again. And again. And again. There isn’t anything left. I was kind before. I still had a heart for you. Now it’s gone. I’m back in my shelter, away from you, guarded from it all. Where I let the emptiness devour me once more. Why not? Why fight it? At least then there won’t be anything left to hurt anymore.



There isn’t anything left ….damn that says it all right there
This is sad. Relatable but sad. Do you need a cookie?