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Honestly at this point I'm not even sad.
I'm mad.
And disappointed.
I'm mad that you just cut it.
That there was no explanation.
One second you existed, the next you were a ghost.
I'm mad that it happened so fast.
That it just felt so real that I was blinded.
I'm disappointed that you did such a shitty thing.
Because honestly I thought I knew you.
At least better than that.
And I'm disappointed in myself.
I'm disappointed that for a god damn second I saw something.
I actually wasted hours, days.
And I'm disappointed that I don't exactly regret it.
Because for that moment it felt okay.
And I hadn't felt okay in a long time.
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YOU ARE READING
Finding Myself I ▽
Poetry"She painted her soul with words and displayed the pain for all to observe." Where a girl is learning how to love herself and the complicated life she lives.
