You thought you could control me and you did, you still do. One thing I want most in life is to become the bigger person, and be able to forgive and forget. Why is it that you make this so impossible for me. I hate you with every inch of my being, my core, soul, or whatever it is that comprises this sad excuse of a human being that I am.
Every hit you gave, physical or emotional, scarred me to an extent which I am ashamed to admit. No one should have such control over another human being like you do with me. I see you everyday, but we never say a word, but why do I feel like your planning and plotting ways to ruin me, because trust me I’m doing a pretty good job of it already.
Everything was twisted to look like I was the one, the *****, Â and I admit you turned me into one. Because I did it all back to you in any way I could, in the hope it would make me feel even, in the hope that you would stop and possibly feel like YOU’D lost, not me. All I ended up with was many people who hated me, and undoubtedly still do, and of course a diminishing mental health.
There are no words to express how I feel about you. Just a raw emotion that slowly poisons my body into a hollowed out core, a shell, that if stood on, is crushed easily. That is what you’ve done to me. I cry for the girl you attacked. The girl who had no idea what was ahead of her, the innocent and normal child. If I could go back and kill her before you set eyes on her I would. Death would be easier than the years that followed.
But in a way I’m thankful. If I didn’t have you to blame for my current predicament of suicidal thoughts then I, myself would be the only one to blame, and considering I already hate myself more than you, -which is a lot if you read what I just said,- then I would be dead already.
So as I sit here and look at the blade that will numb the pain you’ve caused me, I thank you, because without you I would be dead already.