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Why doesn't it ever stop?
How is it that no matter how many people or relationships I put between now & then it never stops stinging.
No matter what I do the pain is all ways there.
Every person always tells me that I need to get over it, but why can't I?
It doesn't make any plausible sense.
That after all the bullshit he put me through.
& after all these people that supposedly "care" about me.
I feel nothing but cold & emptiness.
I doubt I'll ever feel anything but that anymore.
I don't want you back. I never want to see your face.
I never want to think about the baby, or our relationship or what could have been.
Yet the pain doesn't go away. It doesn't happen for me.
All my life I get set in the shadows. My problems are nothing.
I'm never picked over other people.
Nobody really gives a fuck about me.
I feel so isolated & lonely in more ways than one.
I don't feel physical pain, but just emotional pain.
More emotional pain than I could ever imagine putting someone else through.
I just want to cut and bleed and sleep and not deal with anything anymore.
I want to feel close to someone again. Let someone share some of my pain.
I can't escape the pain even in sleep.
So death wouldn't even be a solution to any problems.
In a permanent sleep all I would feel is unimaginable pain.
I am afraid to open up.
Nobody knows my insides.
& I doubt anyone would ever care enough to ask about them.
No person cares that my cuts are deep.
They're permanent.
When I walk, I walk in circles cut out by my own two feet.
I doubt anything or anybody would take me as I am.
Disgusting, hurt and weak for the world to see.
My heart sliced open by the knife of someone who didn't really care.
I don't open up anymore, the one person who ever knew everything I had to offer.
He stomped on everything I held dear.
It was like having your actual heart ripped out of your chest & in your last breaths of life watching the only person you ever loved, stab it with a razor blade over & over again.
Still feeing the pain in death, while lying in a pool of your own blood.
Trying to salvage what little you have left but choking on your own bile, your own blood, your own guts.
The cuts on my arms don't hurt nearly as much as my empty heart does.