Feelings On Paper

"Everything Torments Me"

The only phrase louder than any other thought in my screaming mind is:
"Everything torments me."

Everything is a lot,
but I hate the way you went public—
Someone you called your best friend just lost the love of his life and you won't speak to him.

You stand at your tallest (average at best) and smile,
when you are blind to what you did to those girls;
what you did to me.

Every shower is met with the memory of kneeling in yours,
dry heaving the anxiety of what you forced me to do;
every drink and every edible.

Every drink is met with fear,
as I am terrified of blacking out the way I did with you—
The way I awoke to my legs spread,
confused and scared of you.

Every text I overthink,
for it could be same deceit you casted upon me,
every lie and empty promise could reappear.

I think to myself you were a bad six months,
a bad experience to learn from,
a bad memory.

That would be lying to myself,
for maybe in cumulative time,
it was a bad four and a half months.

I like to think of those six,
one and a half are good memories,
regardless of the anxiety you caused,
and the fear you created in me.

That's the worst part, isn't it?
I like to tell myself you are naive and didn't know any better,
knowing that you knew what you were doing.

Controlling my every move,
my money,
my outfits,
my act...

I fear that despite it all,
I may have never loved you—
That I forced myself to do so because of the convenience.

I blame myself for what you did to me;
I should have known better.

I could never fix someone that didn't care.

I could never fix myself.

I could never fix us.

I just waited until I got bored of putting up with it,
until the drama was more insufferable than entertaining,
until faking it became a task rather than an amusing way to pleasure you.

I guess in the end,
we manipulated each other.

You made me believe you could change,
that you loved me as me,
that you cared for my own ambitions,
that you wanted to be better.

I,
well,
I made you believe it would make a difference.

And that is why everything torments me,
because I deserve what you did to me,
for what I did to you.