I used to be known as the nice, helpful girl. The one to go to when you were feeling down.
The one who never got mad.
The one who always saw the good.
I knew I was naive and didn't care. I knew I would be taken advantage of but allowed it to happen because it would put a smile on others faces.
The me from a year ago was that person. The only compliments I gave myself were given after helping others.
Then I got my heart broken breaking someone's heart.
Then I got my heart broken breaking someone's heart again.
Then I got my heart broken breaking someone's heart AGAIN.
Then I just got my heart broken.
The people I tried to help ended up getting hurt the most by me. The people I cared the most for made me feel uncared for.
I taught myself the importance of communication. Doing so made someone drive a screw into my fragile heart.
I learned about my unhealthy coping mechanisms, I took actions to avoid me using them. Doing so made me obsess over my own thoughts.
I slowly built up my confidence. Doing so made me cynical and judgemental of others.
I tried to convince myself that I wasn't becoming less patient, I was becoming less tolerant. That I was respecting myself.
But that kind person that I was always proud of being seems to have died.
YOU ARE READING
Ruminate
Poetryro͞oməˌnāt verb To think deeply about something. synonyms: think about, contemplate, consider, meditate on I've got a world of thoughts inside my head. I'm just trying to map it all out.
