The Definition of Me (Part 2)... or, The Definition of Devastation

you say i should be over it. but it’s not fair to say i should be over it. it was 8 months when you said that. that’s hardly any time at all when you loved someone. and maybe it was easy for you, but i think that’s cuz you never even loved me in the first place. or that you were just over me way before it all ended anyway. and it’s not fair to say i should be over you when how do you expect me to? 8 months of lovebomb, devalue, discard. (not counting the 9 before that) 8 months of missing me, loving me - you told me that several times. why? - of being lovey, pretending to be different. being the fucking same over and over and over and over.

and every time i would move on, you’d come back. and i’d take you back. into my life and into my heart. trying to get back what you pretended to be. what you pretended to feel. what you probably never felt in the first place.

10 months later. 2 months after the last words. you come back. with a girl. a group of friends. you fucking wink at me. then pretend you care about my uncomfortability. you have taken everything i love from me. the places. the people. myself.

i’m not the drunk, bitter, fat girl you said i was.

i’m fucking heartbroken.

The Definition of My Daily Burden

**I know people will worry when they read this. I'd like to say that I have no current plan to kill myself. Please don't freak out or commit me.**


they always say how they wanted to kill themselves and no one knew.
maybe that was true, at one point for me.
but how could you not know?
like, how could you possibly not know?
i want to tell people. i want it to be a part of me. It is a part of me. But a part that no one is allowed to know.
Because that would be weird. Strange. Awkward. Freaky.
I’d be judged. people wouldn't get it. They'd judge. I’d be that girl.
Things would invariably change. You would never view me the same way.
Think of it. Think of me. What else do you see? The same person, yes? But you'll never forget. And if you're one of those people, you'll judge. You'd never understand.
The pain. The sorrow. The loneliness. The utter desperation of being alone and devastated and never seeing any way out.
The constant desire to achieve an end to all your pain. The daily urge - that’s not the right word. it’s not strong enough - to end it all. It would be so easy. All I have to do is jump off the bridge. I think about it all the time. I know someday I will. I know it in my heart. Each day until then is a reprieve. No. That’s not right. Each day is a burden. Each day is just another day in the way of the end goal.
I will kill myself eventually. I know I will. I will probably jump off the bridge. I can’t see any way out.