THE BAD You were not art. You were distraction. You made me full of anxiety. Knees constantly shaking. Stuttering words. At loss for air. You spoke me into ashes, yet somehow I still wanted to get lost in you. Lying here 2AM, crying a river, and refusing to accept the fact: you never loved me. You never thought of me. You only thought of yourself and how good those 15 minutes inside of her felt. The horror that followed you leaving me were that you were scared of commitment. Love was something you just couldn't do. I looked at you knowing you could never treat me right. Still, I stayed. I hated your smile, it wasn't pleasing. I hated your ugly red hat, you always wore it. I hated how much I loved you, you didn't deserve it. Your hugs were demeaning, I felt as if I was somehow being suffocated in you. Your kisses felt hungry. I'm sorry if you ever saw me as a something you could be esurient with. I hate that I miss you, because I'm not supposed to. Being disappointed constantly isn't something you're supposed to miss. You left me stranded in a never ending forest, with no compass, with no sense of direction. You were some kind of void in which I got lost in. We were supposed to make it. You were supposed to get over your pride. You broke me. My lungs feel twisted and searching for air. My hands and knees are shaking. Baby, I need you. I need you to fix what you broke. That damage is done. THE END I can no longer wait for you. I'm sorry, but I'm putting myself first. Goodbye. 30

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