How it Works

I Wished I Said...

Everyone had went through a certain situation where they did or said something but later regret not saying what they wanted to say.

I have this pent up energy, and I didn't know how to release it.

So this is me writing down the scenarios where I wanted to say or do things differently.

*******

"You don't know how it feels like to have your heart broken since you've never been in a real relationship before."

You fucking asshole.

Just because I wasn't in a relationship with the guy, doesn't mean the aching pain I had went through wasn't real.

It was fucking real. Because my feelings were real. His, too. We didn't have a label, but we were real.

And you perfectly knew that.

. . . .

"How would you know? I haven't even seen you cry before, let alone show your emotions."

I don't show anything because I could give you the space you need to let out the pain. The anger. The sorrow. Everything.

Cuz apparently, there's no room for both of our tears in this friendship.

. . . .

"It's just a phase, you'll get over it."

So twelve years is a phase?

Hm.

Interesting.

Thanks for paying attention, by the way.

. . . .

"I know how it feels."

No. You fucking don't.

You're not me. How can you possibly know how I feel? Everyone deals with shit differently, so don't you dare compare your shit with mine.

. . . .

"Why don't you like me?"

Because you are an awful human being and I don't wanna be associated with some prick.

But I'm not gonna say that cuz I'd stoop to your level and I'm too classy for that shit.

. . . .

"You shouldn't be insecure! You're tall and you have a nice body. And an even greater personality."

Yet all my life, I was told that I was either too tall. Too skinny. Kinda chubby. Have big feet. Have a small head. Have a large chest. Have no ass.

And let's not forget about being too emotional. Too cold. Too awkward. Have an annoying loud voice. Not caring. Stupid. Air-headed. A loser. A failure. A nobody.

Who do I believe? You? or the other million voices inside my head telling me otherwise?

. . . .