what's going to happen if i'm continually subjected to this

nobody is meant to endure this sort of

this sort. this. what is it.

i'm not as stupid as you tell me i am.

my problem is nothing compared to other's, but it fills me up to my eyeballs and spills out of my tearducts. down my cheeks where it sits. it sits there for you to see, though i will it to go away. so you can have a guilt trip after seeing the hurt accidentally show through my ever-present brick wall.

it's a good thing i never really hear an .iloveyou. because in all honesty, i'd probably laugh in your face if you uttered the words.

love isn't telling me that i'm stupid. love isn't making accusations. it's not dirty looks. it's not a constant assault of hateful words sent flying in my direction.

and sure you can pretend that nothing happened ten minutes later. and sure you can act like you do love me. but it's happened enough now that i can tell the difference.

you make me

my heart pounds

i have to walk around

i have so much hatred for you sometimes

i cannot do anything right

i think horrible things in my mind in my heart

such horrible things that they could burn the dirty look off of your face permanently

my writing so hard that it cuts through multiple pages

heavy black lines

page after page

and i draw your eyes crossed out with x.s so that i don't have to see that look anymore

i wish i were brave.

or

i wish i didn't care so much.

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