Midnight Tears

Damage

I am not a whole. 

I've found that during life people come and go and sometimes they take pieces of you with them. Pieces of me have been taken, so many pieces. 

The people that take the biggest pieces from you are sometimes the people that won't leave. Like her. 

Her...the her that continues to break me away, piece by piece, maybe she's satisfied with my shade of grey. They grey of my empty voids. 

And maybe it's my fault. My fault that I didn't tape myself together when I was strong enough long ago. Maybe if I did I wouldn't be so empty. Maybe she wouldn't have won. 

She is not a whole. 

So many people have stolen pieces of her so she steals mine to fix herself. As my damage gets worse she gets better. I'm spare parts, extra fabric, leftover wood. I'm the parts people take to feel better about themselves. 

I'm the parts she wants. 

And I sound crazy, and you're probably making a weird face. God I sound crazy. 

My mind is a dark place. 

A place where I hide, from her. I curl up in the corner and try to pretend the empty holes that were once qualities, emotions, hobbies, interests, are still there. I pretend I'm whole again. 

I would do anything to be whole again. 

To enjoy music and dancing like I used to. To sing for everyone and smile until my face hurts. I don't even remember who I am. 

The sound of slamming doors and screaming is something my mind is too familiar with. So when it happens I listen to the rain or my playlist. But even then the screaming pains my throat and the loud bang rings in my ears. 

Is anyone a whole? 

Maybe other people have hers too. Hers that seem more like monsters. Or in my case, thieves. 

Her hand print is a red mark on my cheek. Another piece of me gone. I'm hanging on threads. Barely there but holding on, for what? 

I have nothing else here so I run. I'ts a dumb decision but it's the right one. I guess there's no difference of being alone and being with her because when I'm with her I feel so alone. I never knew one her could turn you into nothing.

I am not a whole. 

There's many people that come and go and take pieces of you with them as souvenirs. In my case just one. 

My damage represents resistance. I walk around missing parts but I hold my head high even when I cry because...at least I'm not with her. 

She is a whole, and she has me to thank for that because my damage is her strength. But one day... one lucky day, my damage will become strength too. 

Because one day without her, I will be whole.