The reason
I keep running back to you knowing my life doesn’t depend on it. I endure every ounce of insult you spew toward me because I think it’s okay.
You think you’re helping but all you’re doing is hurting.
You treat me like a dollar item off the shelves and I let you.
Maybe all I need is pain — pain inflicted by you — to feel my already withering existence in this world. Maybe, you were meant to be in my life. For just that.
I watch myself bleed open as you stab me continuously. Going at it from limb to limb only for you to feel the joy of ripping another human apart.
Creating this delusion of happiness each time we cross paths as I disallow you to see how I’ve yet to pick up the broken pieces that you left behind.
And at the end of it all, it is only you who will truly be able to see how fucked up you left me.
