sugar & spice

iii

and this is how i picture envy

I'm tired.
I'm tired of being the second choice,
of being the sidekick,
of being someone you could toss aside thinking that my heart was made of steel as you say, "She'll endure."
I don't want to have to endure. I want you to realize the damages you've caused me. I want to push and scream just like you did, just so people could see how much I'm hurt. But I realized even as I do the exact same thing, I'd still be the invisible ghost people likes to pretend never exist.

When you told me about the stories of how your life was pitiful, I couldn't help but compare yours to mine. I know I shouldn't, but looking at it now, I have every right to question everything about you. I don't know whether you're actually hurting or if you're just desperate for attention. I don't know whether you're genuine or if you just want everything to yourself, because in the end you'll always get everything. All you have to do is just look at them with those big pleading ocean eyes and just like that they're within your reach— wrapped around your little fingers like a moth drawn to a flame. And I will be nothing more than just someone whom you expect to always clean your mess.

I don't know what to make of you anymore. We used to be allies, but now all I can see is blue as the bruises form on my skin, all I can see is red and black as you decided to leave all the wounds you've inflicted on me to rot like a corpse of what I used to be.