tarynitup

Sex. My feelings. The real me. My heart. All things I saw as things for someone to be able to use against me, weapons.

All things I was careful about giving away.

My first big relationship making me realize I didn’t talk and act like other girls, and that guys all love the sexier girls, relationship or not.

My second being the only one before the last one I put my heart into. Knowing they were a player going into it, I put up with so much more than I should have, believing I was the problem.

The last one, getting everything I held close and protected, the mistakes with the most weight falling on me. If they saw what they actually had, they’d see it was worth fighting for. Nobody wants to be the first to have that responsibility. Constantly told they were done and it was pointless and yelling at me for not trying to talk but blowing up when I tried. All of the things I carefully handed over were mocked, my integrity and morality questioned and a deviant perception of me, the navigation of my trauma told to me instead of understanding it. My love not good enough.

This time I’ll learn. Nobody will ever say those words to me and affect me this way again.

I’ll do my morning mindfulness bullshit on top of a rock and I’ll fucking forget all of this.

Never again.