Hysterical letters to my sanity

i was told this story on my bus route home

i do not need to count the strands of hair that wrapped around my wrist
i am finally free of the clutches of perfection
i am beautiful without the calming rock of your validating eyes and smirks and whispers of false hope futures and cries to liqour soaked pasts
i am not your newest attraction, a therapist for your old broken heart to lie and heal in, while you promise everything and give me nothing
you are not the boy who's damaged enough that it matches my pieces just right you are all the false tricks love can play on you
you were just there to show me that even when something feels right it can trick you
you were there to point me in the direction of the mirror cause i look at myself and i am too good for you
i'm too good for everyone
i am free
so go fuck yourself