You officially broke me. I'm beaten and bruised with nothing to ice. Thinking about what you did makes my stomach want to wretch. Thinking about your hollow eyes makes my lungs want to scream. But thinking about how much none of it matters to you, how little I matter to you, makes my entire body sob. It's all disconnected. My body isn't my own. My thoughts aren't my own. I wake uncontrollably and sleep as a side effect of medication that wears off too soon.
I never asked for any of this. So many times I've been ready to walk away, from the good and bad.  You told me I wasn't worth anything to you, and I thought those words weren't your own, but now I see they were. You convinced me there was something deeper. That if I was patient, I would have my happy ending. I thought there was enough good to outweigh the bad. You tricked me into thinking there was any "good" at all.
How am I supposed to ever trust again? How can I ever be expected to open myself up to another man? There's a hole inside of me that I don't know how to fix. Forever it will be there, hidden behind whatever I put in front of it. I can graduate and move, I can start over, but it will always be there. Your branding on me. The marks from the lashes I took, for what? Your amusement? You own self-loathing?
What's the point?

“The sudden disappointment of a hope leaves a scar which the ultimate fulfillment of that hope never entirely removes.” - Thomas Hardy

Hindsight

I think the worst part is knowing that it could have all been over 2 years ago, when I was stronger and my head was more clear. I could have stuck to my guns and avoided heartache on both sides. Maybe then we'd have a chance now. I don't understand how "college sweethearts" stay together. I don't know that two people can grow perfectly in sync together when too many factors get involved. It was the perfect 4-year storm.

People grow. And people move through life. And one day I'll do this or that, or both. I'll meet someone, I'll get married, I'll have babies, I'll grow old, and I'll move on to another life. But will I ever have the strength to open up to someone again? Will I ever be able to start from scratch, not wondering when it'll all go to Hell again? Will I ever be able to close myself off to him so I have a chance to move on?

The perfect storm, and now it's time for clean-up. Where's FEMA when you need them?

I've come to realize that my life is just a cycle of songs. Here's one: