inkblood &paperbones.

We are the music makers and we are the dreamers of dreams

If anybody would like to murder me in my sleep, I would help them. I would swallow whatever you offered. I would help you load the gun. I would press the pillow closer to my mouth. I would hold your hands tighter around my neck. Because I am the Almighty Psycho Bitch. I am the famed Whore. I never asked for any of this. And people lie and say “It’ll get better.” “You’ll find someone.” “Good things happen to those who wait.” And it is ALL. BULLSHIT. I have been here for a year longer than I wanted. In a circumstance similar to hers. My boyfriend, who, now, says he dated me for a year and a half for an experiment, cheated on me with a girl who I thought was my friend. And I know now that she couldn’t be my friend because he was between us. And I respect her for that. And I forgive her for that. Because you can’t help loving people. You seriously can’t. And I have fought him for years. And I could have done so much worse, but I didn’t. Because I was never that type of girl. I will never sink so low as to intentionally hurt anyone like that, because I know that feeling of not being enough. I know that ache in the back of your teeth when you think about what happened. I know the constant fear and the never ending doubt of yourself, saying, “What did I do to deserve this? What did I do wrong?” And you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t. And neither did I. He did, and we both know that. But we’re women. And we are built with warrior hearts, and those hearts know truth but they know passion and they will fight tooth and nail to be loyal to the person who we let in. So, yeah, I know how you feel. I know how it hurts. But I hurt too. He looked me in the eyes and he said that he didn’t want anyone to use me anymore. He held my hand and he said he wouldn’t be like the others. He made plans with me. He said I mattered. And to have that all thrown in your face, especially when I have never asked him to come back, and I have never asked him to care about me, to have that all ripped away to find out you matter absolutely to nothing? To every boy you have ever given your heart to? Is unbearable. At least she has the false security of him being there. I sleep alone, and I will for years. And I am pock marked by the sins that I unwillingly committed. And every moment of happiness I let myself feel, I curse to hell. God damn all the joy I let in. God damn it all. God damn even years ago, when I rightfully was by his side, and let him in. God damn me. God damn me right to hell, so I can dance with fire and feel something for once, and maybe for once feel like I deserved it. 

I’m fucking done win this.

I’m fucking done win this.

Lets talk for a second about being the other woman. I never ever in a million fucking years would want to be that. I’ve been cheated on. And it fucking blows. And I would NEVER want to do that to someone else. I was lied to. I had no idea I was the other girl. At all. And trying to punish me for feeling, for putting myself first, for trying to be okay? Not cool. Because I didn’t try to hurt anyone. I didn’t even approach him; he came to me first every fucking time. I’m the other woman, I’m the witch, I’m the slut, I’m the mistress, I’m the home wrecker. Whatever. In reality, I’m the girl who got screwed twice for trusting an asshole and for being labeled the bad guy. So don’t fucking scroll through my feed trying to brag about how great your life is. Because it’s not. I’m not the one with the cheater in my bed. I’m that bitch whose life is fucking ruined, but at least I was honest and at least I didn’t hide anything and I sure as fuck didn’t do jack shit to hurt anybody. I didn’t have to tell you shit. I didn’t have to say no. I could be screwing whoever I wanted to, but I don’t because, wow wow wow I’m a decent human being. I’m so fucking done with being alive. I’m so fucking done with all of this goddamn shit.

Seriously how can you even lie to that extent and pretend to care so deeply? I can’t stand it.

Yesterday I was just angry. But today I ache. I ache I ache I ache. Every time I try. Every time I think I’m okay again. It dies and it hurts and it kills me and I’m becoming a person ruled by bitterness and hate and sadness and I don’t want to be that. But I have no choice anymore. I try to let things go. I try so hard to feel okay. And things have never gotten better. And things never are okay. And there is no one out there that gives a damn about me. I will die alone and every time I try to cheat fate, fate gives me a person I can’t help to love and I can’t help to lose.

It’s on my mind all the time