At the end of the day all we have is memories

My heart isnt a toy!

Don't flirt with me, don't make me feel like I mean something to you, don't make me feel safe and happy, don't let me think you like me, don't let me think I have a chance, don't let me fall in love with you, if it's all just a game in your world!
One day, she realizes it. She's spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to pry her feelings away from herself; too much focus and time have been forced into that for her to evaluate them.
She looks at herself in the mirror, stares herself in the eye, takes a breath, and exhales. And she does that. Several times. She stands, and she watches herself breathe; she watches herself go through the delicate, thoughtless process that keeps people alive.
She stares and stares, and tells herself that she's gorgeous, pretty, beautiful, amazing.
And slowly, bit by bit, she begins to accept it. And then her thoughts race; thousands of miles per minute, and all she can do is stand and process it.
She's a woman. She's tough. She's wonderful. She picks herself up off the floor every time and gets through every bad day.
She's a fucking goddess - she's her own hero, she's a princess and a prince and a goddess and a god and a queen and a king and every single perfect thing that's ever existed.
She's composed of a little bit of stardust. She's part of the galaxy with just some extra glitter.
And she refuses to stand and let some fickle boy break her heart when he doesn't even know the responsibility of what she's handed to him.
So she doesn't. She won't. She retracts her heart, fills it back up with love and kind words for herself, builds back the parts he'd chipped with assurances to herself that she's going to find someone that will know precisely how to handle her heart.
She doesn't hurt anymore.
The next day, she wakes up and feels perfect. She feels like the last who-knows-how-long of her life have been a redundant, messy, broken cycle of chasing him.
She doesn't feel a twinge of anything when she thinks of him. He's another person in her life now; nothing more.
Today is what her past self had always wished for someday to be.
Today is the day that she is at peace, that she is happy, that she does not hurt, that she is whole without needing any parts of him to fill her.
Today, she is incredible. And she will be; forever.
She stops wishing on 11:11's for him. She stops wishing at all. She is the only thing that she needs that can change her life and herself.
The love songs suddenly aren't about him anymore.
She no longer sympathizes with or even understands the love poems she sees or used to write.
She is over it, over him, and now she is stronger than ever.
He isn't the focal point of her world anymore she can spread her wings and fly