I can’t conjure up any more tears. I am so fucking tired. I don’t get it. You play me like a fucking fiddle. The worst part is you think you know me better than I know myself. You’re so wrong. I am not the same little girl anymore. I’ve grown up & you should too. You might have known me then but not now. Not anymore. Let go of the past, please.
Trust me, I remember it. Don’t get it twisted. Don’t forget that I fought for you. I fought hard. There was a time I would have done anything, anything to keep you lifted, to keep you satisfied. I loved to watch you glow. I loved to watch you smile. If you would have asked me to jump, I’d reply how high. To run? How far? But those days are past. I am a person in my own right, instead of an appendage to your fantasy.
I am sorry you thought it was my job to entertain you. I am sorry that you missed me shine. I am sorry that you couldn’t be a part of this. I am sorry that you thought I’d stick around forever. I am sorry that you didn’t understand me better.
Tell me I’m crazy or too dramatic. Tell me that I am “too much”. Tell me whatever makes you feel better. I am sure there are plenty of other people that would agree with you that maybe I feel too much, I cry too much, & I care too much.
I know accepting all of me is fucking hard but the best part is, you don’t need to. No one needs to except for me & thankfully I have.
The future may include obstacles. I might suffer a great deal but I know I will okay. I know how to be. Not thanks to you, but thanks to me.
~Your Doormat No More