True love doesn't exist because you said it did.
You took every hope and theory I had
And shattered it.
You broke the parts of me
that I never even knew could exist.
True love didn't matter,
Because to you,
I was a name
On a list.
You played your games and made the rules.
All the while I was your fool.
You knew how to lie
And grab my waist.
You told me up front
that the truth
Was nothing to waste.
You said you loved me,
but love wasn't real.
I talked to the devil.
I heard about your deal.
You can't call me beautiful because I don't deserve it. My beauty has been hidden away in a storage closet. Late night talks to myself, crying in bed and wishing for help. Angry words and bitter notes. All the lonely words I wrote. A shattered reflection and ugly perception, steals all the beauty that's inside. I'll push you away when I need you to stay. I will never get too close to anyone. I am scared of commitment and filled with resentment. That's not beauty, it's brokenness. If you look inside, you'll see what I hide. My mask will fall off, and you'll be in awe. You'll be left with an illusion. Beaten, broken, shattered, and ruined.
If you looked inside her, what would you find? Beauty and passion, or anger and hatred? Both reside in her heart, but one outweighs the other. Her sadness and pain, won't go away. But her plans and ambitions are like a flame. She dreams of a life that's much different than now. She's awaiting an escape and counting down. Her words ignite and she continues to fight. In the end, her light outshines the darkness. She has scars, all over her heart. She smiles even when she's falling apart. She has too many problems, or so they say. They don't realize they have shattered her hope to be loved one day. When she leaves, she won't say goodbye. She'll just leave everything behind. A face in a book, a sad and distant look. That's all she will ever be.
That tiny scar you left on my right hand, still remains. I remember the night I got it, laughing too hard to realize it. I always looked at it, with a huge smile on my face. You were part of me now. Months went by, and you soon went away. I was left behind, with only a bittersweet memory and a scar on my hand. You were part of me. Every time I hear your name, or smell my perfume from that summer, memories come flooding back. The scars you left were not only on the outside, but on the inside as well. You left without a piece of me, but I remained with a chunk of you. You're in that stuffed little wolf, and the white glasses, even in that tiny scar. You left with nothing, but left me with everything. I don't want it anymore. It's all yours.
When you lose someone, you lose a piece inside you. Everything that used to be is suddenly gone and you miss it. The late night talks and the inside jokes you shared. The compliments and security that once make you feel okay. When a person leaves, they take more than just themselves. They take a piece of us as well. Loving someone means giving them a piece of you that you know they can break and trusting them not to. Being in love is opening up the darkest corners of your soul and letting that person into those parts that even you are afraid to explore. When that person leaves, you're left exposed and broken. As they walk away, the broken pieces stick to the soles of their shoes and they take you with them.
People grow up believing that without self love, there is none at all. Our world has fallen in love with the idea of perfection and has driven us to destruction. Beauty is a great thing, but so is love. It is in the way our eyes light up when we are doing the things we love or listening to that one song. It is in the way we laugh uncontrollably at the little things inside our heads. Love is a little act that can go a long way. But if for some reason you can see no reason to love yourself, then don't deny others the opportunity to fall in total fascination with you. While we can be blind to what is right inside of us, others have a clear view. Love starts with yourself, but it doesn't stop there. Love and be loved. That is the key to all good things in life.
There is something about the past that seems so comforting, yet better left undisturbed. As we look back on the past of what we have done and who we have lost, we get this emptiness inside, wishing to change what has happened, to fix the past. It's a good idea until we realize that the past is over with, never to be lived again. Maybe trying to fix what is broken will only leave you cut and bruised. People that let us down, left us for our better. What's been lost is not meant to be found, but to be a mere memory and line in your life's story. Everything we have said and thought, experienced and lost, makes up every little detail of who we are. It may seem great to catch up with the past, but it's not okay to settle in there. People will let you down, and things could remain broken. Start looking forward, because looking back can scare the living shit out of you. And if you're not careful, you may end up resenting the ones you once held dear.
As I look at numbers, I see my whole life before my eyes. In this world, we grow up defined by numbers: how tall we are, what we weigh, how smart we are by a grade on a paper. We use numbers to determine lengths of time and road. All throughout life, we are taught that these numbers mean something, but that is a lie. Who we are is not based on that little number penciled in on that sheet of paper, that exam, that doctor's evaluation. They are merely what this world groups you as. Numbers limit us, telling us who is and is not good enough. We even learn what we can and cannot do based on how many dollars we have, how many miles away that person is. In all honesty, these numbers aren't stopping us. We are.
You always told me I was beautiful, even when I was so mean. You held me in your arms, protecting me with all you had. As months went by, the sparkle in my eyes began to fade. We wanted different things, but we wanted each other. I was broken, and you tried to help, but all that you got was and scars and bruises. I recall the late night texts and all the arguments. I remember saying "I love you more," and kissing you out by the front door. You and me, we had our good, and we had our bad. But the way we ended, still makes me sad. A smile in the hall, or a late night phone call, is all we ever seem to be. I wish you would open up your eyes and see, that maybe you could have saved me. I loved you dearly, but I let you go. I was scared my feelings would start to show. I love you now, more than I did before, but it seems too late for anything I have left to say. I wish you the best darling, please don't forget me.
In this world, everyone wants to love and be loved. Love can be the most beautiful, breathtaking experience, but it can also render you helpless in the end. When we fall in love with someone who sees the beauty in us, it seems amazing. Love makes us feel invincible, like nothing could ever take you down. The thing that people tend to forget is that although we may love someone forever, we cannot control how long they love us in return. Love can be your saving grace, but it can also be your ship wreck. Before you put yourself out there, remember to love yourself. Make sure you are able to endure the ups and downs, maybe even being thrown off course. Love yourself, because what else do you have when others quit? You can only control what you love, not what loves you back.
I know you are having bad days, more often than ever, but keep your head up. You may not feel like anything special, but you are. Please just realize that you don't need anyone but yourself. Life isn't about having the most friends, it is about having the best. Love yourself and find the ones who love you back. That's my advice to you. You are a treasure, and you are more beautiful than words can explain. You should see the way that your eyes light up when you are smiling, or talking about those bands you are in love with, even when you are sitting in your room, giggling at the smallest little things. You should see the joy that appears when you talk about your writing; that's what makes you so wonderful. And hey! You are so funny. You can make so many people laugh. You have more to offer than most people, you have a caring heart and you have a beautiful soul. When you are upset about that breakup or that failed test, smile and know you are worth more than any guy could ever imagine or any number on paper could define. YOU define your worth, not others. Don't let anything get you down. When people fail, you have yourself, you have books, you have music to relate to, and you have writing. Turn your struggles into victories. Do it for your future and do it for yourself. Start living a life that is run by you, not what others view you as. You are unique and you are beautifully made. Keep your head up love.
Night time is a prison. When night falls, the monsters come out. All those thoughts and lies that you kept trapped inside your mind, run free and there is nowhere to hide. If you look inside my mind at night, it will look like a thousand little tiny lights, almost like a city. Each light represents a thought, a regret, a memory. Night alone doesn't take you down; it uses the weapon of your own state. At night, when you are tired and worn down, you can't help but think about all the things that have been pushed down inside and began eating away at you. Night doesn't stop at just bringing these thoughts, it uses your tiredness to make it become reality. You send that text, you make that call, all to see yourself fall. Night is the monster, not the voices.
I guess somewhere in the midst of loving you, I forgot to love myself. To you, self love was the most important. You told me to get better and took a walk in the other direction. I cried night and day, hating every inch of me even more than before. Eventually, I was completely broken beyond repair. How could someone like me deserve love? Still, I tried everyday to change, to accept myself. For months, no change came about. The tears came more often and the scars became more apparent. Love was supposed to build me up, so how did I end up so broken down? I waited for you everyday, hoping you would love me. Instead, I watched you chase other after those beautiful. As I grew stronger, you grew closer. You really did love me, but I didn't love you anymore. I guess being broken shows you independence. You taught me to love myself, but at the same time, I learned how to hate you. It's funny how things work out.
When we think of addicts, we think of those people who are hooked on drugs, alcohol, and partying. Addicts are almost always looked down upon for their actions and their problems. But have we ever stopped to think that addiction is not always a bad thing, not always harmful? Those who have addictions were at one point broken, looking for something to numb the pain or fill the void. Addictions can come in all kinds of things: drugs, exercise, people. But have you ever thought that maybe writing could be mine? I am addicted to writing, to escape this painful life. I am obsessed with finding a way out, to avoid my feelings and pain. Instead, I turn to my writing to get me through the tough times. So when you hear the word "addiction," don't always assume it is something bad. It may actually be a lifesaver.
If only someone had found my writing, my words and thoughts spread about, maybe there would have been hope. Within in my writing, was the key to saving me. No one asked, so no one saw. As I laid in bed those sleepless nights, I pulled out my laptop and wrote my heart out. My writing was me, and it told my deepest thoughts and fears. I always wished someone would ask to see, and sadly only one person did. Maybe if they had tried to reach out to see who I really was, they would have noticed the treacherous state I had been trapped in. They never saw the terrible things I wrote, or the suicidal things I had planned. All they ever saw was the smiling face I wore. Some knew I was broken, but not beyond repair. My writing told the story, but they never wanted to hear. They could have saved me, but now it's far too late. As I step off the stool, my scene will be done. And that's how the story ends.