I don’t understand why I’m like this. I thought I made peace with this weakness a long time ago, but here we are again. I wish I could have held myself back from caring about your wellbeing. I wish I didn’t give you so many benefits when there were so many doubts. If I could have just guarded my heart from that, your betrayal of my expectations wouldn’t cause me so much pain. The worst part is knowing that I’m in more agony than you even though you’re the antagonist. Why do I put hope in the wrong people? Why do I trust the wrong things?
Like that one time– the girl came to my door at 5am, bleeding and saying she needed to call the police because she had been caught in the crossfire of an ongoing fight. To this day I still believe her story was true. But how was I supposed to know that she was going to steal my debit card when I went into the next room to find my phone?
I didn’t.
Because I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t.
Because I trust people to be better than that.
And I reap trust’s consequences.
So excuse me for remaining so numb for so long. It’s just that I walked by you every day and, sure, I noticed the way you always dragged your feet when you walked on the carpet, but I wanted to believe it was because you enjoyed the way the carpet felt on your soles. Now I know the real reason was because you were trying to collect as much electric energy as possible so that when you hugged me, I’d feel the shock. And, sure, I noticed that when our fingers brushed or our paths crossed that electricity was in the air. I tried to blame it on irony, but our last hug was my electric chair.
I trusted you.
Even when I didn’t trust you with much, I trusted you to be better than that.
How was I supposed to know that every smile was a costume & every “hello” was goodbye—
if you’re not willing to fix your broken wings, don’t expect me to help you fly.
My mind continues to repeat our story & I can’t make it stop.
I didn’t even know you had a hold on my heart until I discovered it on the floor where you let it drop.
You wake up every day pretending everything is okay
But I know your secret— it’s not.
You cried, “Sorry” but truth be told, you were just in disbelief that you got caught.
In another life knowing the depths of your flaws would make me feel powerful.
Instead here I am, still hurting inside *still* wanting you to know the fullness of life that I know.
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