I just want someone to be so strong, that they can hug my shattered pieces together.
I might look like a steel structure, but inside I'm just shattered glass.
So I'm shocked your feet aren't bleeding from stepping all over my heart.
Maybe you washed them off, but not before leaving footprints.
Hopefully after you left, there will still be some shards in them, so with every step you take, you think of me.
I hope it digs into your skin, making you feel the same pain that you caused me.
Then you'll come crawling (considering you won't walk) back crying from the pain, saying you're sorry, begging me to take out the shards and how you'll do the same to me. But it doesn't work that way.
You can't stitch broken glass with an "I'm sorry."
You wait it out, crying at the pain until the pieces slowly fall out.
Or maybe I should just rip it out. Watch the blood pool around me and watch you you writhe in pain.
Apparently it's one of the worst pains, so it's your choice, a short amount of time and you could die from the pain or wait the pain out and your emotions are forever changed.
That is the pain that you made me feel.
Do you understand now? Why while you were out with every Mary, Sue and Jane, I was in my room surrounded by used tissues.
Surrounded by pain and tears. Surrounded by ice cream and happy memories stained with pain.
Is this a lesson to you? Have you been your best teacher?
If not, then go ahead and feel a torrent of pain that I will inflict upon you. I will make you feel like I did.
Scared yet? I thought so. Except I won't hurt you. I'll just tell you my story because the battle may have passed, but the war will soon begin.
My words are knives that only leave scars. Battle scars can be forgotten but battles cannot be lost.
Now enough with the deep speeches. Let's sit down, and listen to MY STORY, MINE, NOT YOURS FOR ONCE.
