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What You Called Me Says Nothing About Me And Everything About You

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At first, things were great. You called me things like baby, pretty, and smart. I loved those days when I had barely heard a word from anyone but then would hear every word I had been dying to hear from you. Until these words became fewer and the mean, soul-crushing words became plenty. But the thing is, what you called me says nothing about me and everything about you.

Those words I once loved became a muddled mess and sometimes were barely choked out. The sweet words that used to be said out of love, were now more of a welcome mat. 

As if saying them erased all the hurt from the night before. As if calling me “baby” was supposed to make the pain go away. As if the words had turned into a band-aid. 

Then they became a rescue net, thrown out at the last second to hopefully lessen the blow. A tangled net that suddenly was holding too much and the seams were giving way. Pulling and tugging, finally, the net broke and everything went crashing to the ground. 

And just like that, the words disappeared. Their pieces were broken so small that it just wasn't possible to fit them back together. Some were lost, gone forever to never be heard again. They had slipped through the cracks, so easily forgotten about. 

But if you caught it in the right light, you could see their little pieces glistening, as if there was somehow hope of their return. 

What found their place though, was much worse. These words had no home inside me, but they rooted themselves in you. These words were hurtful and ingrained themselves on my heart so no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t free myself from them. 

They poked and pried until you finally made room for them. These words were malicious in their tactics and swept the last of the broken beautiful pieces into the cracks.  

I found myself wondering what was wrong with me. Did I only imagine the beautiful words? Should I have gone after the pieces and tried to fix them? The truth is, I would've never been able to find them all. 

Even if I did, they would've fit together awkwardly and would have never been the same. Their beautiful shine would somehow be distorted.

After the words broke apart, I didn't know you. You tried to distort me, just like the things you had broken. Words are not welcome mats or safety nets. Words are not tools to push beautiful things into the darkness. 

Words are meant to build each other up and all you wanted to do was tear me down. But the truth is, you’ve lost your right to say anything to me anymore.

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