𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐁𝐎𝐘.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞.

❝ and for you,
i keep my legs apart,
and forget about my tainted heart.

and i will never ever be the first to say it
but still i, you know i would do it,
push a button
pull the trigger, pull a mountain, jump off a cliff
cause you know baby,
i love you, love you a little bit ❞

***

𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐨'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯.

bruises,

they were all over his chest and lower stomach of a reddish hue against his soft, pale white skin and they were all created by my hands- the ones that i want to so desperately cut off now and still, he tried to make me feel better.

i suppose that's just the type of person jae is- one that is able to take somebody's pain away and turn it into something good.

i am not one of those people, and i never will be but even though i may not communicate it correctly, i could never stand to see my baby hurt- mentally or physically but what to do if i'm the one who's hurt him? i mean, i'm the one who broke his nose and i'm the reason why he got hurt today even if he claims it was the gym equipment.

it's all because of me.

i can't help wanting to scream; to release the oppressive pain in my chest and stomach that feels like i'm being filled with hot air and break down on my knees because i can't pretend like what's going on isn't anymore. i cannot pretend as if i didn't wander out of jae's bedroom after agreeing to take a bath in hopes to walk into traffic and get taken out the easy way; i can't pretend as if my mere presence doesn't worsen the person who betters me; i cannot pretend like i have the strength in me after seeing that and i don't know what's more hurtful; the lie he told me, or the truth.

i wish i wouldn't have screamed at him like i did; instead, i wished that i would've just shut my stupid mouth that's gotta have the last laugh always. i wish i would've never let my guard down that day after the basketball game and let his feelings intertwine with mine; i wish i had never entertained him and went and fallen in love with him; i wish i never would have been moved by that soft smile and those gentle words, because if i hadn't he wouldn't have gotten hurt.

i have only myself to blame, and that is the most sickening part of it all.

maybe i'm being weak. after all, who told me to go and break down after seeing a few bruises he could've truly gotten by another, y more common accident? maybe it's just the fear that always lurks in my stomach, hiding in the deepest parts of me but constantly present- the fear me and my mother share more than just our physical makeup- but that we are just like alike.

i cant have children, and i will never be able to.

i will never want to be able to.
the idea that i may be like my mother.. even a little bit- is a sign i shouldn't have kids, even if i did manage to want them. i would never want to unintentionally subject them to a behavior that mimics hers and leave them all banged up and damaged just as she left me.