Author: Morgan Llyr

Time has passed. It’s been long enough to swallow the stone in my stomach and move on from the prince charming that rode away into the sunset without me…right?

There are reminders everywhere. 

My friends and acquaintances pairing up into happy couples, love songs on the radio, break up songs, songs we listened to together, songs he ruined me from for the rest of my life. 

The damn bear that I just can’t get rid of because it’s the only thing that anyone has ever given to me just because they wanted to. So many reminders that I’m alone, and probably will be for a very long time to come.

I just want someone to give my heart to. 

Maybe to someone who can help me put it together again, but that isn’t the way it works right? You have to be whole to be loved first. Broken hearts don’t mix well with love, or at least in my experiences they don't…

I crave someone, it’s not just a want. If I just wanted someone I would go find someone to fill the desire of being someone’s significant other. But that’s not it. 

Something in my heart is looking for a certain thing because it knows that without the certain thing, whatever happens, will just fizzle out. 

I need to be held so badly that I swear sometimes if I wrap myself in my blankets tight enough, I can almost feel someone’s arms, hear their breathing. Then I remember. I remember that they’re not there. I remember that no one is there…

I don’t go out anymore, there’s nowhere to go, and the only times I do get to go out, it always ends up being with one of the happy couple friends, because I don’t have any others… 

They’re all happy together, and then there’s me.

I keep having these stupid flash fantasies run through my head about a knight in shining armor coming to sweep me off my feet, but I know it’s not going to happen… I’m just not that lucky.

Don’t get me wrong. My family loves me, but it’s not the kind of affection that I’m missing. There comes a point in your life when your instincts kick in to find that one person to spend the rest of your life with. 

You need to find someone to love, entirely because of who they are and what they mean, not just because of a blood tie, or a legal piece of paper.

I think I’m running out of love to give.

I just feel empty… so damn empty. Every single part of me feels like there’s this chunk missing like something has just scooped out pieces of me and threw them somewhere dark and cold where they won’t come back from.

I miss the days when things were simpler. The times when you could imagine a fairytale love and it would be true inside your heart. The times when there was still a bit of magic and wonder to this sad place.

I just need someone to love me the way that I can love them.

I need someone to let me love them, to let me in. I need someone to lean on me and be the one that I can lean on. I need someone to teach me how to see the world again and not just the shadows that are trying to drown me.

When I first met him I didn’t see anything like this happening. One minute we were just acquaintances and the next… it seems like we’re more than friends. I don’t know what to think but this is what I know.

I met you at the beginning of the year, and instantly I knew I was going to be avoiding a certain spot of the room because I thought you were adorable and my instincts screamed RUN!!!! Then it all started to happen, you were part of crew, so you traveled with the cast when we attended clinics. Once we had performed the judge was to give us our notes and you sat right beside me when there was more than enough space to spread out. I pushed the thoughts aside, because at the time I was happy with the person who destroyed me a few months later.

Time went by and it had become obvious that I was off the market, and then clear that I was alone. Sour Patch and I ended up being alone for about a half hour. He hadn’t been silent, instead he was showing off and laughing at every bad joke I made. After that I saw something that could be between us, but it was crushed when I saw him doing the same kind of thing with the girlfriend of his brother.

A friend of the Sour Patch boy tried to pick up my pieces that Devil spawn scattered, but I cut him off. I’m not the kind of girl to embrace a relationship that doesn’t feel right. He didn’t feel right, and I didn’t want to do to this kind person, what Devil spawn had done to me.

Another month passed, a day before the competition we had an urgent practice and when it was over cast and crew decided to have supper. So you came with me and two friends. The conversation in the car of three girls and one guy turned to relationships and you said “I want to find myself a sour patch girl, one who’s sour about love, but she's really sweet, and in the end all she wants is to be truly loved.”

The next days competition was lost. But it didn’t matter we still had to host, and perform one last time. So it all began.

He and I had been there on time, and learned that the time had been pushed back by two hours. So we talked, we laid on the stage, we watched YouTube videos of reporters messing up on camera, and finally we went outside to get some fresh air.

The sounds of a soft ball game were heavy on the air, and it wasn’t very far away. So you asked, and I replied. That “yeah, that sounds nice.” We went we saw, neither of us were entertained so we left, talking the entire walk back. The time came and everyone else arrived.

We painted, and repaired all that we could and it came to attention that we needed wood filler from the store. A close friend grabbed me away under the guise that we would retrieve the needed supply, when really she needed some advice. When we returned I was a little behind her, just long enough for the door to swing shut, and yet when I walked in you had stopped your project and was actively looking for me. Throughout the night you continued to work by my side, eventually escalating to the point where I turned into a Dalmatian with black paint and you simply looked tattooed in odd patches.

We made a good team that night until my mood turned for the worse from a call with someone demanding more than they had the right too. Then you backed off, seeming to realize that I was less than friendly to anyone who might come near.

The next day, when I walked in earlier than I’m ever awake, ready to take on the day, you were the first person my eyes were drawn to. We conversed about the flavors of our graciously provided breakfast and agreed that you would take the Jalapeno with some mustard, and I would take the cheese and Plain. Even making a point that I didn’t mind the spice, and I just preferred the flavor.

The day went on and we ended up as co-hosts for two teams. Then we guarded the lobby together. I started to demolish a piece of tape, indulging my destructive side and you watched with a smile, then when I was finished I put them on your shoulder. From there is spiraled into a game of retaliation. We returned our team to their room and made ready to receive the second team.

It started with a simple game and next thing I knew I was playfully wrestling with you for the possession of my phone. It continued from there and the conversation ended up on my past. I explained why certain things set me off and to clarify I told you about how Devil spawn actually ended what had become sexual assault that I couldn’t get away from. You had asked earlier if I was with him and in the usual fashion of someone who still misses another, I said no. You became softer spoken, gentler, but from then on when I turned a little sad through the day. You somehow knew how to brighten me back up again. We watched a show in our spare time and you sat right beside me. When our food arrived, we discovered we were one short so I offered to split mine. You got quiet and insisted that I eat my fill. I knew my fill was barely a fraction of the food so I took it and gave it to you, yet again you seemed worried that I was going hungry. When I assured you that I wasn’t you finally ate and silenced the quiet rumbling in your stomach that had punctuated many quiet moments of the play we had watched.

When the awards began you stayed by my side, and got me to dance a few steps to a song that was too fast for the slow waltz you had picked.

I won’t lie, I felt safe right then. Had circumstances been a little different I would have kept dancing.

Behind the curtains you bumped your hip against mine, and then did it again, and again, and again until finally my competitiveness was awoken and we set up a rhythm to the song you had been humming all day.

The long day started to catch up with us so we sat with the rest of our cast and crew. I was standing to get the best view and you motioned for me to follow you to a spot with a good view, so I followed you.

We were still with the rest of our group, just a behind them on a set of steps. And you suggested a game.

A game that yet again we had played earlier in the day and I had laughed off. I agreed due to boredom and you started off simple, the standard move of the game a hand on my knee, a question, an answer, a hand on my thigh, a question, an answer.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I had to answer the business inquiry. Then the one that followed. Suddenly your hand was on my chin tugging me in your direction. I froze. I wanted to see where it led but I was afraid. So I laughed it off and you said you had finally won. I fought the answer and said no. “I just had to take that message.” You accepted the challenge and moved my hand to your leg, nothing serious, simple. On the knee. But I was honest and I said “yes I’m nervous.” Then you moved my hand to over your heart and I pulled back so fast that it was almost a blur. I wasn’t nervous at that point. I was terrified.

Yet it didn’t scare you away. Instead you handed me a piece of a flower that had fallen off a piece of set.  From there I was so at ease with you that I let my arm rest on your leg, then your head was on my shoulder, and my head on yours. Time passed and you sat back up. I reached for another stray piece of set, and once again, we had a satisfying struggle for the small piece of straw.

We returned to the now empty rooms, checking them for anything left behind and it was like nothing had happened. Then as we walked back, you surprised me by jumping on my back.

Then I had to leave for the night, and you seemed sad. Which I understand because I know I was sad.

I had high hopes for the next day when I was supposed to see you again in rehearsal… and they were crushed in a sense. Your friend came back to bother me, and then you appeared by my group, only to vanish seconds later and not return for any of the hour remaining.

You called my name a few hours later and I looked up, just by being your quirky self you put a smile on my face that had fallen from the crush of everything seeming like nothing had happened, and the betrayal of someone I thought was a good friend. Then you were gone again.

How could I not be confused? I see how all of this could so clearly be seen as blatant and outright affirmations of your affection, but I saw you with your friends and how you acted. Where you really trying to tell me that you feel the same way about me as I do about you? Or was this just you “being comfortable” and me letting my hopes get up? Or is it even worse than that? Am I just one of the guys? Am I so insignificant to you that I don’t even classify as an interest?

I have questions and the answers might be right in front of me, but I can't see them through the haze of my own fear and scars. I'm waiting, hoping, praying for the outcome. But really all I am, is afraid.

It’s funny how the little things add up to something even more important than a blood relation.

Just because someone has the same genetics doesn’t mean they’re family. It’s something that has to be proven through the most ridiculous acts of love, hidden as insults, cruelty, and flat out absurdity.

If you were to take my DNA and read it next to those connected to me by chromosomes and proteins— it doesn’t mean that I am just like them. I don’t think like them, I don’t see the world like them, and some of them— I won’t say are any different than strangers.

I grew up with an age gap of six years, my older brother was the closest thing to a friend that I had. I wasn’t allowed to have company because mother thought that the house was always a pigsty when in reality it was only about two notches down from showcase clean.

Then it happened, I was allowed to have someone over. One night. One night turned into two, and three, and then six, and then before either of us knew what had happened the school year was over. It was almost like we were somehow her adopted family who had custody of her over the weekends. Summers were almost exactly the same, she went home every Tuesday and returned within a few hours.

We did everything together, and our houses became each others. We knew where everything was just like we had grown up there together and were never apart. Things were borrowed and never returned, fights were had, words used, secrets shared, work split, lives entwined.

Then it happened, a wedge got driven between us. Someone returned in her life and every so slowly they pried her away. It was her decision a choice she needed to make on her own, a path she needed to take to grow up.

Years passed and I saw her less and less. It really hurt. To grow so close to someone, only to be told that you aren’t going to get to see them anymore no matter how much you beg.

Four years later, she’s coming home. We’ve both had it rough and I know that I’ve been missing her. You can’t just grow up with someone that close, and then rip them out in one single blow. The roots are still there and those can still grow. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, there’s a lot of growing left to do. But it’s ok.

We can get into knock down, drag out fights. But that’s perfectly fine with me. I haven’t been the same without her, and I know things now that I didn’t know then. Like how sometimes you don’t need your best friend, you need your sister. The one who knows everything about you.

The one you talked through the same cruddy sixth grade relationship literally three dozen times. The one who knows you almost caught the barn on fire trying to have a tea party with your great grandmothers found china. The one who just looks at a magnifying glass and has flash backs to a cloudy overcast day when we tried to start a tiny bonfire with a magnifying glass and somehow nearly succeeded, not once, but twice. The one who you slid down the side of the dirt pile you weren’t supposed to be on, and built chairs on the top with, which you later used to lounge in while you discussed philosophy that was far beyond the normal capacity for a twelve year old…

The one who knew you were lying about a shoddy hand of poker when no one else could tell. The one who never needed to ask if you were alright. The one you never needed to ask, you just knew.

The years lost could have been crazier, wild and insane. Both of us got up to so much that together… God have mercy on the world. It would have either been amazing, horrible, or surprisingly steady for the both of us. We would have both been so much different. Hell I know that out of all the people I know, she’s probably the one person who could have talked me out of making the biggest mistake in my life, or at the very least the shoulder to cry on so I could actually heal.

We got back in touch not too long ago and both our lives have changed in an odd direction, but somehow we’re headed back toward each other.

Those two little strawberry- dishwater blondes with crazy imaginations, lonely lives, a love of decidedly un lady like things, and the courage to do it all— they were sisters.

Now it’s one strawberry blonde and a brunette; with height difference of seven inches. Complete with baggage of ex boyfriends, ex friends, and lost time. A remaining love of dirt, grime, and greasy knuckles. Crazier imaginations honed by day dreams. And a single choice leading them back all the way to the beginning— they are sisters, and nothing will ever change that.

A storm is raging outside the windows. Choices slamming against the walls of my brain. Lighting flashing in my eyes, people thundering that I’m making the wrong choices every damn, never ending, never changing day.

I want to be beautiful. I want to be strong. I want to be—wrong…

If being correct and proper means changing the way I think. I’m sorry. It’s not going to happen. My brain isn’t broken, my thoughts aren’t bent, or crooked, or mis-aligned with anything other than yours… Inside my head reflects the problems outside of yours.

Can’t you see it out in the world? The streets falling apart, no signs of the once strict moral code, that kept things safer and more out of sight. It was there once, keeping all of us safe. Not held back by stereotypes that made it easier to not offend, and violence praised as good entertainment for the masses. I

I will take up all the names you assign to my race and bear them proudly if it means saving the life of just one innocent face. “Politically correct” only opened up the doors to people screaming louder with no cause. Sure we have ground to cover with rights that haven’t been properly addressed, but changing the way you dress and letting it all hang free does nothing but make the world a little angrier, a little heavier, and a little worse for wear.

Those littles add up when everyone is adding to the pot.

So here’s what I have to add to this toxic brew. Stop shaming the skinny girl who wishes she was more like you, stop shaming the fat girl, the average girl, the girl with the gap.

Stop proclaiming supremacy over every tiny piece of the map. We all bleed, we all breathe, and we’re all dying too.

Stop marching for rights with slogans that don’t even make sense. Stop taking those two steps down the street and marching us five more back. Don’t you see that you’re only proving the points that are holding us back? So what if men represent most of the government? We’ve made leaps and bounds over the years, it’s all we can do. You can’t change the world overnight and that’s a cold, hard fact.

We’ve got all this hate that stems from a book. From a book about entities with different names but the same purpose. From a book that teaches a universal story to love and protect your own people when they come under threat.

Our world is making mountains from mole hills, and we need to take a step back. There’s a lot we could do if we would just stop holding ourselves back. We’ve put ourselves here and now we need to stop and think even if it begins with one man, or woman, or trans, or pan, or gender fluid. All it takes is one of us to inspire another to make a change to cease a single conflict that splinters into two, and then four.

A storm is raging inside our windows, the voices thundering at us are only our own magnified by the power of our own words. We have to stop this. Before we tear ourselves apart. We need to all stop, breathe, think, put ourselves into someone else’s shoes, then someone else’s, and someone else’s until we find the solution that causes equal harm to every party involved.

We’re out of balance and the only way to get it back, is to take everything one step at a time.

Missing him feels like your heart was just ripped out of your chest and you’re left with this gaping, empty feeling where you used to feel so warm and full. 

You’re staring at your fingers while everyone around you is talking, but all you hear are the memories playing over in your head.

You miss him so much that you start to feel a little alienated in places you used to be comfortable. The whole center of your being has shifted.

When he walked away he took a part of you with him, and that part feels like it’ll be gone forever.

It seems like you both were together for your whole life, even though you weren’t. You’ve been on your own before and you can do it again.

You’ve changed a lot since the last time you were doing life on your own and things seem to be getting just a little better.  

I know you’re waiting for the second foot to fall and crush you out, but even when it comes I know you’ll be ok. This whole rise has been worth it.

If you start to slip back to the dark shadow dwelling in you, the one who is afraid of the world again, I want you to remember these things…

You were loved by someone so deeply that right now it might feel like you’ll never find that love again. You will, though, and it will be even better.

The friends you surround yourself with need you just as much as you need them.

People are amazed at how good you are at something you love.

Never forget that you have a voice, a name, and that you’re unique on a scale that this world has never seen before.

The things you can do are not average things, you have never once set your mind to something and not achieved it.

The world may seem dark right now, but you’ve seen darker.

There are things in this world that no one is capable of explaining. Things that just happen and leave us with a big mouth full of “what the hell just happened…” There are people who see an entirely different version of the you that you see every day in the mirror.

Pick your head up and leave the negative comments behind, whether they are coming from inside or around you.

Let yourself shine and stop throwing dust on yourself.

You are a better you than you know. It’s just hidden behind a curtain of things the universe has thrown at you, scars that the world has left you, actions from those you trusted, and things you won’t let yourself believe.

You have every chance in the world. You just have to figure out how to get free.

Dear place where I belong,

I don’t know how I managed to stumble upon you. But I have and I will stay here as long as I’m welcome. You have every feature that it seems that I need. You have the exact ones that I thought only existed in fairytales…

You’ve given me the person to teach me that being myself isn’t anything to fear. I didn’t even know that I was afraid to be myself, and you coaxed me out just by being yourself. When I started to be who I really am, you didn’t run away from my crazy.

You’ve given me the person who made me realize I’m worthy to have good people around me. I knew you for a long time and I always thought you would make a good friend, but it always seemed like you had plenty of friends and I wouldn’t be welcome. I was wrong, about a lot of things. Now I’m lucky to have you as my best friend.

You’ve given me the person to teach me that first, second, and third impressions mean nothing. I thought I had a pretty good radar for when things were crazy in peoples lives. I thought I was good at reading through the mask, but yours was too good to even see that it was there. You taught me things that I can’t quite explain, things that I really needed to learn.

You’ve given me the person who brought massive amounts of sunshine into my life with crazy humor and the smile that fills any room with light. When you’re sad, it seems like the whole world is little darker.

And the person who proved to me that not all pretty boys are dicks. You came at just the right time, to prove that not all of you are like him. You actually tried, and did. You didn’t complain when things went wrong and you inserted yourself into our family just when we needed the energy of change.

Dear Place where I belong… I don’t think I would have made it through this year without you.

Someone told me that I was “so much like a Disney princess.” It threw me for a long time. I didn’t get it. The famed princesses that little girls grow up wanting to be all had this terrible thing that they had to overcome and then they had a fairy tale ending with their prince charming.

Not I’m not a fairytale maiden who has all the right solutions to everything. I don’t have a fairy god mother to poof things better, and I have all the self esteem of a maggot.

I beat myself up because I can see all of my short comings. They’re there in plain sight. It’s not a conscious decision I make but it is a fair one. I hold everyone else to the same standards I hold myself. Otherwise I would be a hypocrite. You never see the behind the scenes of Mulan where she’s berating herself for not getting the drills right, because she doesn’t everything in her world is perfect, wrapped in neat little bows.

I should be up and working until my fingers are numb, until everything has been completed. There is no reason for me to lose my cool over something as simple as a laugh. Everyone else has a good hold on themselves. Why should I be allowed to slip up?

Instead I don’t try to push myself past the limits of my physical comfort. I let my temper wreak havoc when I’m hurt. I don’t control myself well enough. Cinderella never lost her cool, she rolled with the tide and let it carry her to her very own paradise.

I shouldn’t let myself break. I need to be a steel wall and I haven’t been. I’ve failed myself and there’s nothing you can tell me that will make it better.

Repeating the adage “the only one who can help you is yourself” does nothing but piss me off.  I’ve tried helping myself out this rut, I worked as hard as was possible from any level of perspective, but just when I got out of the hole, someone would come along to knock me back in.

Some things can’t be fixed by one person.

I’m not a fairytale princess, my prince charming walked off and now he’s gallivanting around with the human version of Ursula. Someone who wants something from him and doesn’t really care about him.

Maybe there is some part of my appearance that could be considered regal enough to belong on that screen. My hair is the color of straw, my skin only a few shades darker than milk, my lips are a red that I don’t really mind, and I carry myself with consideration. This doesn’t make me Auroras doppelganger in anything other than resemblance.

The posture isn’t because I feel regal or proud. It’s because I’m afraid to crack the mask that covers my entire being.

I wish with all my heart that I could be so effortless, and lucky as a Disney princess, with everything ending perfectly. The reality is much harsher. There is no magic left in my world. No prince charming on a white horse coming to carry me off to a fairytale land. No circumstance ending with everything just like it should be.

So when Disney puts forward the film about the size twelve, tired, heart broken, and luck of a normal human: I will gladly accept the compliment that I am like a Disney princess. Until then. I’ll stay here, pining after the one who got away, sleeping as much as I can, and railing on myself that I need to be better.

I hold everyone else together when they’re falling apart. I’ve been the shoulder to cry on countless times, for countless people. So when I actually need someone, why am I not good enough?

Everyone that I care about, steps inside just long enough to kill me a little more, then they’re gone, adding more agony to the mix. Every time I let myself open up to people they discover my soft spots and then use them against me. 

I’m tired of opening up because I’m dying inside, and then having yet another person leave their own bloody mark. 

All I have is the pain I’ve been pretending so well for so long that I actually started to believe that I was happy. 

Now the scales are being pulled from my eyes, the rose tinting on the world is gone. 

I felt loved for a few months, really loved. My self-value increased and maybe everything I told myself was true. I started to become happy, and then he was gone. It crushed down on me that the one person who ever made me feel like I should exist didn’t really want me after all.

Why do people always pretend that they want me around? Only for some tiny insignificant thing to happen and they retract every kind thing they’ve ever said. 

What mistake do I keep making that I can’t even have friends? They say they trust me and then when it matters most they’re the ones who end up being the poison snake.

I’m not just something that you can play with. I’m a human and I’m so broken down that I can’t even feel anymore.

I’ve been told that I’m great at so many things but I tell myself that I won’t amount to anything because that’s how I’ve been treated.

It’s not any one person's fault, the blame belongs on the heads of everyone who has ever pushed me out or hurt me until I crawled away bleeding.

I have a very rare few who will be there for me when I need them, and I’ll be there for them, but what they don’t know is that because of all the people before them… I can’t let them in.

I want to let them in. I need someone to see that I’m already shattered inside and that the shards of who I want to be are killing me from inside. I need to let someone in, but I’m so afraid of getting hurt.

I just want to feel needed. I need to feel wanted. I don’t have anyone to just be myself with. Every single person has some kind of stigma. They all think I’m someone, I’m really that person and someone else. They don’t really know me because I’ve been hiding, trying for years to keep from being hurt.

Why does everyone want me to help me with their lives, but the second I need someone to help with this newest bloody streak they scatter like roaches in the light?

I’m the counselor for the difficult decisions, the rock to stand on in unsteady times.

Why is it ok for you to run when I’ve been there for you through thick and thin? What could I have possibly done to deserve this? 

Why does everyone leave me behind when I’ve held fast for so long?

In all honesty, it’s been too long and I’m pissed at myself because I still think about you. The question is, how do you stop missing something that felt like it was made for you?

I love these people surrounding me. It’s just painful to watch them go around with their own significant others when all I have is the memory of you. I’ve been thinking about you a lot. More than I should be.

1. I miss how you didn’t care that I didn’t want to watch a movie when I went to your place and I just wanted to be wrapped up in you.
2. I miss the way you smell.
3. I miss the perfect way that my body fit against yours when you gave me a hug.
4. I miss the hundreds of little kisses in the cold.
5. The deep kisses when we were alone.
6. The way your hands would run through my hair when I let it down.
7. The sparkle in your eyes when you declared me beautiful.
8. The passion and conviction in your voice when you talked about your art.
9. The way that your hand felt in mine.
10. You never minded when my hand was a little sweaty, and I didn’t mind when yours was. You never minded if my hair looked a little crazy, or if I was too tired to put on a full face of makeup.
11. I miss how steady you felt. In a world of people who were always trembling on the ground, they stood on, unsure if they were going to fall to the ground, or fly into the sky. You seemed to know. You seemed like you knew where you were heading. I saw that in you, plain as day. You’re going to be someone, someone important. That knowledge felt safe to me.
12. I miss how you felt like a powder keg and I had the capability to snuff out the spark about to set you off. I miss how dangerous but controlled you felt. You were this miracle that somehow let me see inside of your story.
13. I miss listening to your voice on the other end of the line. It made me feel better to know that you were out there and didn’t mind if I just needed to listen.
14. You gave me some songs to listen to and it opened up my world to a whole new kind of music. Now I’m stuck in this kind of limbo. I don’t want to find anything else because I don’t know where to look and it brings up memories of you scrolling through YouTube and trying to find a song that I absolutely loved.
15. You gave me something that I hadn’t had anywhere except for in my dreams. Something I needed. Something that I crave so much worse now that you’re gone.
16. I miss how you felt like home.
17. I miss everything about you.

I know that it’s naïve and stupid to think that someone can do this. Especially since I’m the one who refuses to lie about anything, and doesn’t make promises I can’t keep.

I have a weird relationship with promises. I’ve been promised a lot of things, and had most of them fall through due to lack of intention. Even so, I don’t break my promises. If I say the words “I promise” then you can rest assured that I will do everything in my power to do what I said I would. But I won’t lie and tell you that something is going to be ok if I can’t rest assured that it will.

You see, this is my problem. I can’t make a promise if it can’t be kept, and here I am, needing someone to make me a promise.

I need someone to promise me that there is someone out there who wants me. Someone who will make me believe that I’m not a piece of trash that belongs in the garbage. That’s what I feel like right now.

I need someone to tell me that the sun is going to come out again and banish this demon in my heart. I need someone to promise me that I’m going to stop missing him some day soon. I need someone to promise me that he really did love me and that I wasn’t just a tool for him to get what he wanted. I need someone to promise me that it wasn’t my fault. I need someone to promise me that I’ll find someone who was an even better fit than him. I need someone to promise that I’m not just going to wither into nothing.

I need to promise myself that I’ll be fine but I can’t. I need someone to take the chance that they’ll be lying to me. I can take the devastation of having yet another promise be broken, but I can’t take this never ending tide of almost good and then bad. I don’t know which direction it’s going to go.

I need someone to promise me that I’ll be okay.