Can’t be loved..

…by Elle King.

I am confused. I am sick. I am lost. I’m in the dark. I am selfish.

I hate my hair, my eyes, my nose, my feet, my legs, my breasts, I hate my everything.

In the dark there is no sound, not the brush of skin on stone, the soft fall of clothing surrounding you, not your nails tapping, not your nose sniffeling, not the music in your head.

It takes so much out of me to keep breathing. Promises that I have made seem like they should be broken, but all I have now is my word. My honesty. The stone cold look in my face when you want things you can’t have. The sorrow on mine when I realize I don’t get what I want either.

The tears roll down my face, silently, leaving their salty trails on my face. Do you see? Do you look? Or do your eyes drag across mine not caring to actually see?

I am always here. I always listen. I do everything I can, to help you hope and cope. But I am tired. Tired of always loving you. Tried of the rejection I eat over my morning coffee. I don’t want to hear it in your voice, see it on your face, watch it in the set of your shoulders and that angry strut.

If you really  want her…then stop. Stop telling me you love me. Stop  filling my head with everything you.

It’s time to cocoon. Time to hide in the closet, under the bed, behind the door….hide in any spot you can’t find…in the darkness.

This entry is not just about a her or a him or a them. It’s about all of them and then some. It’s about me.

To my 24 if he ever reads this, I love you, I loved you when you were fresh from the bath and the way your head smelled. I love you cause you vomited and shit all over me cuz you were sick. I love you enough to set you free. And someday maybe you’ll be able to forgive me and love me when  I don’t know who you are anymore.

i forgot what it was like to write like this. Freely, where no one knows me. Anonymous.  I can write whatever I want or need here, and still be heard. My therapist knows I am doing it. One other person knows it. But that’s it. No family, no  love interest, no besties, no one on my facebook. While I want to share with some of them, if I do, I won’t be able to write here the way I am.