No More Pretending

No more putting up a description on a dating site, pretending I can be someone else's dream.

When all I am is the nightmare he cursed me with. The heartbreaker and deceitful liar

that there's no one else in my heart.

Stamped in my head.

I'm going this alone.

Too much lies, jealousy, and confusion.

Solitude is my friend, and it's healing me more

than a sea of dicks that want my pussy

and a chain and lock on my heart.

They can't tame me,

they can't control me.

I'm no longer the girl available for business and pleasure;

I'm the girl who just wanted to know why this hurt me so badly

and if my perception is to blame.

There I go, gaslighting myself again.

But I don't know. I don't know anything at all.

The truth lies not in my consciousness,

but in the tears I've cried

and the words I've dared to speak

without censoring myself.


I'm relieved the mask is finally off.

Die to old me.

Old me who thought I needed to

pretend Josh wasn't important to me

and that these pop songs don't soothe my soul

because of it.

Old me who went with other guys

thinking I'd love again

when there's a huge chasm within my soul.


After all,

I went to over 30 mental hospitals over J.

I texted obsessively,

even went to his apartment uninvited

twice.

Too scared of this part of me,

but she needs the love and compassion

I give all my acceptable parts.

I need to face this...