I’m so sick of you being so cruel. I am supposed to be able to lean on you, and you can’t do that. You cut as deep as you can just because you are a little hurt. You want to either push me away or shove me into the ground. You are able to put your hands on me, laugh at my struggling, and laugh at my pain. Me staying and trying to fight for you and us is me trying to give you the chance to be better and heal us, because one I go alone with things unresolved I begin to heal my wounds myself. I’ll know my strength without you. I’ve weakened myself to give us the chance to be something stronger than me alone, but it’s not happpening that way. You wish I wasn’t pregnant. You hate me. You call me names. You are as ugly to me as you want and yet I still don’t do that to you. You’ll regret it. You’ll regret it because I end up staying and you’ll never get the part of me you once had again, or you’ll hurt me so bad I have to leave because you won’t change. You threaten me that I’ll be forced to see our daughters face and forever be reminded of you, maybe that will be true, but you will be forever haunted by the ghost of what could have been. You’ll be missing a piece of yourself always, you’ll realize you lost someone that loved you, you’ll regret the nasty words that you spoke because they were the ones that forever stained something beautiful. You’ll always try to fill the void of what you had for a moment, but lost it because you’re selfish. Maybe I’ll be reminded of your face, but the beauty you only had to offer me is what I’ll walk away with in my daughter. She’ll have all the best qualities of you I wanted, and she will see and feel love. She’ll never see the hurt you did to me , and she’ll never feel it either. For a moment j thought I was getting weaker, but in my vulnerable and most weak moments you have built a new foundation for my self. We could have been forever.
My mind and heart feel scattered. Half of me wants numbness, because it’s familiar and I know what to do then, and half of me wants to feel. I don’t know if I’m hopeful or just lying to myself at this point. I’m holding onto the idea that there is potential, and yet everything I read is saying that you can’t lose yourself and stay hoping for someone because it won’t happen. I’m not perfect, but I try to be everything I can. I give all that I can and I’m constantly shoved down to where I can’t breathe. How can I forgive someone who bruised my body with his baby inside me, when he can’t even be kind? Maybe the question isn’t how anymore but why am I doing this. Why am I giving someone every breathe and ounce of me when they can just spit on it. Why am I left to pick up the pieces of my heart and mind, why does my heart break and I have to feel my baby moving inside me while I crack.
I want to be done feeling for you, showing you I’m hurt by you because it would let go of the control you have of me; but then I show you one last time to see if you’ll care. Then you don’t
While I suffer and melt into a shell of who I was, you can laugh in my face then tell me it’s love
Now I fantasize of being somewhere else
“Perhaps the purest and deepest form of love is having someone praying and supplicating for you, without you ever knowing …”— Mufti Ismail Menk (via naturaekos)
It feels like my chest has collapsed. Every gasp of breath becomes more painful than the last. Oxygen feels like fire coming into my nostrils, throat, then breast. Hopelessness feels a lot like pergatory, waiting for nothing to happen. Then the innevitable, the worst. Am I just waiting for myself to be lost, or am I waiting for a turning point?
