Unsent Letters.

inner monologue #2.

i keep repeating to myself, "he hurt you. do not go back to him." but the second i even blink, i catch myself running back to him at full speed and it never fails to amaze me how quick we are to run back to what broke us. as if that's going to fix us again, as if a knife could ever be more
than something that rips open your skin and makes you bleed. as if a bomb could ever be more than something that just explodes and obliterates everyone around it, even the one who holds it. as if you could ever be something more than just a poison i inject into my veins, as if you're not as destructive as a hurricanes winds, as if you're not a tornado made up of screams that only ever made it to the tip of my tongue but not quite out of my mouth, you're usually just sitting at the base of my throat, choking me out, making it nearly impossible to breathe. as if you're not the one who shattered my walls and squeezed my heart and then placed it in my own hands, telling me
"look at the mess you've made." you hurt me and still, i was the one who apologized. i took the blame for you bleeding me dry. see, i thought this was love until i realized that love isn't supposed to destroy you, it's supposed to build you up, make you feel like you're coming home. // this was never home and i can only hope that one day i will stop running back to you.