I used to think of all the good in you whenever you would cross my mind, but lately I’m tainted by the bad. How can you continuously say all of these things to me, over and over, like a broken record player, over and over, a scratched tape deck, over and over and over and over and—
I found out that you were hiding things; I found out that you’re a liar. I’ve seen your anger so many times that I was practically intimate with the strain of your voice every time you would yell at me, I was wound around the furrow of your eyebrows and I became an expert at tracking down your steps away from me. I’ve felt your possession so many times that I dared to call it control, fed it like control, chained me down like control, I started to feel like a dog. Don’t chase any cats, don’t leave this back yard, don’t dig up any holes, don’t strain against your leash, don’t whine at the window, don’t jump on the couch, don’t track mud in the house—my newspaper was your manipulation, remember that one time you sent me pictures of your self-harm, look what I’ve done, it’s not that deep, here’s another picture, read it out loud, look what you made me do.
I love people, and I loved you, and you fed off of my oversized heart until you knew I would come back to you each time, even after I was blamed for things I did not do, for things that were not my fault. I love people, and I loved you, and I think people are beautiful, and I want people to know this. I’ve learned that sometimes, the things you say and the love you show people can change things, can change a life, can save a life, can make someone’s day turn around. I love people, and I loved you, and I loved to mention beauty when I see it, when I feel it, when I hear it, and I can’t count the amount of times I’d get punished for expressing my acknowledgment of beauty, expressing my appreciation of beauty, expressing the captivation and inspiration, and I would get punished by you. I was wrong, I was bad, and our fights would never see eye to eye because you are self-centered and care about yourself, while I care about everyone else. In our fights, we would never see eye to eye because you wanted me to care about only you, when I have a plate-full of love to give to all around me. I am punished for being a giver, I was punished for being around friends, I was punished to give out compliments if they were to anyone other than you. You may be only conscious of your own wants and needs, but I’m conscious of everyone’s.
Waterfront memories, how many times did you tell me one thing and then something else? How many times did you contradict yourself? How many times did your actions connect with your promises? Remember how many times we planned to meet up at noon, and you wouldn’t get there until eight hours later, you wouldn’t get there until it was convenient for you?
I remember crying, and holding back all the tears, and my stone-faced masks, and sometimes it makes sense why I feel like drowning. The memories drown me, the pain drowns me, everything brings me down and your false hope does nothing but drag me further.
… Remember when he kissed you, and you didn’t tell me because you didn’t think it would be important? Because you’re ‘gay’? How many other things have you not told me because they ‘weren’t important’? That one time I found out you were lying about another girl… The pictures I saw, the texts I read, the betrayal I felt, all those lies, and all of that proof… Sometimes, I wonder if you just got better at hiding the evidence. And remember that one time when someone you knew threatened my life and you didn’t do shit about it?
Sometimes, I think you don’t care about anyone but yourself. You go days without saying one word, but then when you and your girlfriend fight, I’d bet that you come running to me to talk to. I bet that’s when you start to say the things you do.
You say I have always been the person on your mind, and that’s a lie. You have a girlfriend. You have a girlfriend. You have a girlfriend. Does she know the things you’ve said to me before? Does she know the things you’re saying to me now? Are you saying these things because you just got into a fight? Are you saying these things because she messed around with her ex?
I’m not that kind of girl, and I’m not a toy to play with on the side. If you can flirt and insinuate that you would do things with me while you have a girlfriend, it makes me wonder how many times you did that with others when you were with me. How many other girls were there? How many other girls did you flirt with? How many other girls did you lead on? How many other girls did you kiss? How many other girls did you…
Does your girlfriend know?
I don’t think you’re changing for the better, I think you’re just getting better at hiding things. Does your girlfriend know? Does she know the things you say to me? You say, maybe someday I could make you my girl, that you’ll give me the world, and does your girlfriend know?
Does. Your. Girlfriend. Know.
How can you be sorry when you’re doing the same things but to someone else? If you don’t respect your girlfriend, how could you respect me? If you don’t stay faithful to your girlfriend, were you ever faithful with me? If you don’t stand up for your girlfriend, I’m sure you don’t stand up for me.
I don’t think your girlfriend knows.
But I do. And I know I deserve better than that.
There was this one time I found out you were hiding things; I found out you were a liar.
So how can I know when you’re telling the truth?