terça-feira, 11 de junho de 2013
She starts thinking what went wrong this time. She thinks about herself, about how she isn't pretty or fun, about how she isn't hot or smart, about how she has nothing worth having. He left, leaving her with her broken heart in her hands. Yes, she was broken. She was broken because she believed and loved with every piece of her heart and soul. She was broken because she knew that she was going to cry and miss him like he would never do. She must have something wrong, it has to be all her fault. She tolerated lies and indifference, she even resisted to the fact that sometimes she was a back-up plan. She did everything she could, but nothing made him stay. He left anyway without looking back, where she remained alone with her tears. She knew it would heal, but the scar will continue there. She tried to be happy alone, but somehow she always felt an empty space. She needed to feel loved so that she could move on, so that she could like herself for who she was. But that time seemed to never come. She smiles like nothing is wrong, pretends everything is all right, acts like it's all perfect in her life. But deep down she knows that that is not true, that inside she is broken, that no matter how hard she tries to convince herself that she's fine, she's not. She isolates herself in her bedroom, listening to loud music and gripping her pillow, hating herself more every second. She hates herself for so many reasons. One of them is never being good enough. She falls asleep, crying once again, with the hate growing inside her without any way to stop it.