I hate that you make me hate myself. I hate that you don't even want a conversation. I hate how you brush me aside and tuck me away. You make me feel invalidated and undeserving.

  It's kind of nice not having to give you so much attention. It's kind of nice that I don't have to make sure you are alright all the time. It's kind of nice that the times I think of you and is when I think of others. It's nice that you don't get a little extra piece of me anymore.       I've never been careful with what I say; that's what makes me me. When I gave you my puppy love, I lost my bark. I feel free that I no longer have to approach you with a censor. If you don't like my new self, the one prior to you, then goodbye. 

All this praise, when all I want is yours.

  This makes me sad to say but the few times I've thought my life could ever be perfect is if I were with you. 

  I've been lamenting the death of what you used to represent for me. You used to make me feel confident, you used to make me feel loved, you used to make me feel important.      I made a wish, a difficult one to fulfill. I wanted you to build a dam that can carry all the pressure of a great deal of water. It was beyond your capability. The responsibility was too hard for anyone to carry. You worked day and night, making me think you could fulfill my wish, but...the dam collapsed. The waves took you along with it. You have washed away along with all of my one wish. I looked far and wide; I almost myself. Eventually, you returned, but things were different. We no longer see each other the way we used to. I feel ashamed for thinking you could build me a dam.      You used to be my symbol of greatness, but now, when I look at you...you remind me of everything it is I'm insecure about with myself. 

  What if this was a test? What if every version of me prior to this has failed to be with you? I hope I'm not in a perpetual cycle of unrequited affection. I can't bear the thought. 

  Remember that so many good things can come about through sacrifice and perseverance.

  Now that everything is out on the table, I can finally work on making it good again. For some time, my secrets were keeping me from being fully present with you. Now I can be better. 

  I don't know how to word this, but I guess I'm more than slightly annoyed by the fact that people try to take advantage of my perceived vulnerability. I don't want comfort from you; I don't even appreciate it; I know how you are. You give me a bad feeling. Everything from you feels insincere. 

  Today I felt relieved that I was unbothered by a lot of things that would usually bother me. I couldn't avoid all of them, but I practiced some self-control. My heart didn't even ache. 

  I have a sense of when someone carries hate in their heart. It's so unnerving to interact with them. It's like one wrong move, and everything implodes on your face. You are made to feel worse about a trivial disagreement.

  I'm feeling sad; lately, I feel like I have nothing to look forward to. I feel like my love for people is misplaced. 

  Don't get the wrong idea, if I had to choose between myself or you. You're trivial, no matter how perfect you may be.

  It's s odd when the estranged act so cordial around me; it's like I entered a raffle for one of the three dark triads of psychology. They give me butterflies, the kind where I'm unsettled. The kind that makes me feel unsafe. Don't get too close; it takes a lot of effort to preserve my psyche. 

  I stepped on a rose bush today, I felt terrible about it, It festered in my mind for some time. I'm not sure if the thorns are still hanging on my sole. I told myself I was alright, I don't think I am. I told myself that some things can't be undone. It's better to just move forward...right? I feel haunted, It's like a ghost living is living in my mind. Nonsensical. Just forget about it.

  I get a little confused sometimes as to what it is I want from people. I need some sort of mechanism to protect myself from heartbreak. 

  When you start thinking something is difficult without actually trying to do it, that's when you lose a piece of yourself. 

Do you ever just feel insecure about sharing your interests? Sometimes I worry too much about whether people think I'm too much of something. My biggest insecurity is people thinking I'm too weird. I want to feel like I'm free to like whatever I like, but I think people expect me to conform to some standard. My mind spins, thinking about whether I've earned approval. It's one to say all approval I'm ever going to need is from myself, and it's another to actually be in a sea of eyes. 

Get a hold of yourself. Don't be overwhelmed by trivial things; you are capable, hardworking, and ambitious. Go at your own pace. You are your only competitor. 

I have fond memories of brushing my fingers along your gentle locks.  You felt warm, like chamomile. I got lost in the curls.  It felt like bliss when I gave you love.  You ran away; you're still running.  I wish for you to see the world and all its possibilities. I wish for you to see me along the way. 

I hate being alone, but sometimes I feel like have no choice in the matter. 

I feel obligated to say I'm feeling "alright" in my moments of vulnerability because I don't feel secure enough to tell you I'm lonely. To tell you I have issues, that my soul feels unsettled, and that you made a mistake. 

I'm feeling starved. It's affecting me, but I rationalize that it isn't. I don't know.

I have this weird theory in my head that the only times I dwell on people is if a sliver of me enters their thought. I think in some ways, it may just be a way to cope, but you don't know for sure, right? It's a bit nice to think that I cross people's minds sometimes. Especially ones I admire. 

I dream...

I thought long and hard as to where I should place you on the shelf that is my life. I thought about punishing you and leaving you behind my self-concept books, but the more the idea marinated in my head, I realized I couldn't do that, despite the fact that you didn't want to be with me. I still very much consider you to be a priceless gift. I will display you proudly. A handsome ornamental lion should stand tall. 

People's emotions are like an assortment of flowers. Sometimes it's beautiful. Sometimes it's too much. Sometimes it's too little. Sometimes, I feel like I'm floral foam. Flowers jab at me until I feel like I'm crumbling. I want to present a beautiful bouquet, but I can't handle too many flowers at once. I lose pieces of myself, and water runs. 

But that 0.01 still persists. I hate it; I wish it would just disappear. These days I don't know what to think. 

I honestly wholeheartedly tried today. I just can't act like I'm okay around you. If I can be frank, I'd rather you just not talk to me. Meaningless interaction will not fix how you broke my heart.  "Don't try to speak to me; it's the last thing I want right now."

I just wish I can everything you want me to be; that way, I won't feel so lonely. 

I can't handle other people's problems right now; I'm spiralling. Honestly, right now, apathy is my friend. I know it's selfish of me, but I'm faced with emotional death. Everything just feels like urchins crawling on my skin. Words can't describe the weight I carry. 

Be unassuming. Otherwise, you'll cry. 

After your purposeful distancing, you don't get to stuff like "I miss you." You don't deserve the satisfaction. You left a big hole. I'm no longer a safety net. Betrayal is like a sharp pair of scissors. 

I'm thrown into the dump every time I hear your name. It serves as a reminder of how much I wish things would be different. Your name is shining in my head, and the reflective dome of my skull bounces your light until dark thoughts make you fade away after a few minutes of calm; thunder strikes. You used to blissfully bother me, but now, I realize it was all an illusionary act. I convinced myself that the pain you gave me was a pleasure. I didn't know better; I don't know if I ever will.

I feel like when I'm not so focused on liking some, I tend to shine just a little bit brighter. I start seeing the parts of me that I really love.

Do these convictions burn me at stake? Is my love dark magic?  Were you a victim, or were you simply enchanted? With my dying wish, I say to thee, my love shall be smothered into ashes.  "You do not get my mercy, lion. You are a beast through and through."

The fact that you make an effort to avoid me makes my soul die. You only care about yourself. You stay true to your convictions, I give you that, but you never acknowledge the fact that I would be devastated. You only care about what would benefit you.  It's so frustrating. I don't know where to direct the "hurt" to. Should I just take the beating? Do I deserve to? 

Don't judge a book by its cover. I accepted myself for all I am. Chew through the pages made of stone. Find the detestable and critique the characters. I made peace with the non-fiction. No vision of perfection, but no polluted scene. My-ocardium, a deep forest green, my mind humming to doves in the wind. My ears admiring "Nights like this." My tears pour out like a waterfall for a boy a doesn't want me. 

I've been blaming myself these past few days, but after some time of reflecting, I realized that it wasn't all me. I don't just act because I feel like it. I act because something influences me, like subtle gestures, big glances, and sentences under people's breaths. To imply me to act, and to coldly reject me, was sinister. All this time, I thought I was petting a sheep, but that was just a carcass. All this time, there was a lion lingering. He watched me from afar, absorbing the looks of its Turkish delight. I'm sweet, supple, and soft; everything the lion could want, but it stays away. I bring forth the unknown, the undiscovered, an outlier, and that's enough to drive any wild mane off. 

I feel so insecure right now. I don't know if I can bounce back from this one. 

Now that it all clicked, why do I feel so unchecked? How desperately I want to click at your moments. It clicks my buttons. Fills me with sadness and anxiety. One-click, and I can be in.  One-click and I can be out.  Which click, I wonder. 

No one knows what to say, but everybody knows how to act.