       Just breathe.
 I can't breathe. I can't breathe.
             Breathe.
October 2017
             "I missed you," I said.
             "Of course, I care for you. I care about how you're doing now, your future…" he said.
             "Are you going out tonight?" he texted around 9 or 10 P.M.
             "Can you suck my dick?" he asked.
       "She's hurting," I wrote, "thinking he actually gave a fuck about her."
             I'm writing to myself, wondering why I put myself in this position, to believe that I was worth something, worth something more than just a body. I've created a fairy tale in my mind, thinking that this man cared for my voice, my words, and believing him, believing when he said he cared for me. But I was just a body, a vessel, a woman with breasts and a tight pussy; gullible, sweet, kind, believing that I wasn't intelligent enough to understand his intentions…even when mixed signals were given, even when he held me in his arms, kissed my shoulder when he stirred in his sleep, even when he said he felt terrible for touching that delicate part of my body, telling him not to in regards to a dishonorable experience. I believed him, when he said he cared. And then I finally realized what I am, that I'm only a booty call in the end, not a woman that he desires to know and understand.
             So I cried on these ink smeared pages, hating myself for getting attached, for letting him use my body, wondering if one day, I will be seen, if anyone will be real with me, and crave my mind other than my body, crave me and stay.
October 2018
             "You are everything to me, but I am not everything to you," I said to him.
             "I lied to you when I said I loved you over the summer…but I love you now," he said.
             "Maybe I am not the right man for you," he said
             "I don't feel that passionate love for you like you feel for me anymore. I don't know where it went," he said.
             "I feel like I am the only one putting in any effort in this relationship," I said.
             "Is this what it's supposed to feel like?" I wrote. "She's hurting inside, not knowing if any of this is worth it. She loves him, but that doesn't seem to be enough. Is she enough for him?"
             I'm writing to myself again, wondering why I put myself in this position, to believe that I'm worth something, that I was worth something to him. I thought I lived in a fairy tale, falling in love with this man who I believed cared for my voice, my words, believing him, believing when he said he loved me. But we fought and fought and fought, pestering each other, burying our souls and kindness into an endless pit of darkness and resentment, all because I loved him more than he ever loved me, because I loved him too much. A lust-filled relationship and only one has fallen undoubtedly, eternally, for the first time. Even when he held me in his arms, kissed my shoulder while I washed the dishes, even when he looked at me like he did every morning, I was the only one who felt what I was feeling, of what I called love. I believed him, when he said he loved me. And then I finally realized what I am, that I wasn't the love of his life in the end, not a woman that he desires to be with, to forever know and understand.
             So I cried on these ink smeared pages, hating myself for getting attached, for falling, for letting him use what was left of me, wondering if one day, I will be seen, if anyone will be real with me, and crave both my mind and body, crave me and stay.
October 2019
  "I feel like you are pulling away…" I say to him.
             "Maybe we shouldn't talk to each other anymore. I don't know if I can do this," I say.
             "You make me so happy. It's safe to say…that I love you," he says.
             "…oh kay," I say back.
             "She's gaining feelings," I wrote, "and that scared her."
             I'm writing to myself again, wondering why I put myself in this position, to believe that maybe I’m worth something, that I'm worth something to him. I was afraid to create or live in a fairy tale that would only crumble in its wake, fall in love with a man who could possibly care for my voice, my words, actually believe him, believe when he said he loved me. There was so much fear, erupting in the linings of my stomach, drowning my body until I could no longer hope; for a better tomorrow, for a better person. But this man, he got some nerve, coming into my life with his clichés, who listened with intent, springing sunrises into open wounds. Yet, there were patterns, situations, too similar to be foreign, that could harm whatever we've created since we've met, arguments and conversations about fears and previous mistakes, hating the damage that's been done by the ones we thought wouldn't hurt us. A casual relationship and it was a constant battle, led by disappointments, let downs, his obsession, even when he spoke to me with courage, even when he kissed me in the darkness, caressed my knee to the beat of the music in the car, always a battle of trust, security, and we weren't even together. I didn't know if I believed him when he said he loved me, if he truly did. And it's now most apparent that he didn't. I've been lied to before, for months regarding that phrase. They'll make time for me, they once said, but never did. They'll fight for me, they once said, but didn't. They're always consistent in the beginning, and then one day, they aren't. One day, he wouldn't be. I finally realized what I am, afraid of trusting and falling in love again, wondering if I should, wondering if I shouldn't, even when these men have moved on themselves with women they love, wondering if this man would sincerely love me in the end, a woman that he desired to know and understand, possibly forever.
             So I cry on these ink smeared pages, hating myself for getting attached, for possibly falling again, for letting him get to know what was left of me, wondering if one day, I will be seen by him, if he'll continue to be real with me, crave my mind, body, and soul, crave me and stay.
             Inhale. Exhale.
       Inhale...exhale...
Deep breaths.
             Breathe.