Dear You

Dear you,

I'm not sure why, after every hurtful thing you've said to me, I'm still attached to you. By now, it feels as though the bad things outnumber the good and the good become much harder to hold on to. You tell me all those things, how awful I am, build up my anger and all that negativity, only to do something, one little deed, to redeem yourself enough to sink the pain for a while. Then you can build some more. Do you care at all what you do to me? How you cut down my confidence every day by pointing out every physical and mental flaw I may have, making up a few along the way? Do you know I listen and take it to heart? Has it really never occurred to you to apologize? Maybe you think that because I'm doing something else while you're talking, or because I'm young, I don't hear or remember anything you've said to me. But I have. I still do, even things from a long time ago. I'd love to tell you all of this, every single word. I'd love to be honest about my feelings to you, if you would take two seconds out of your day to listen. But you won't. I've tried, many times, to make you hear me. And that time when I tried talking to you when I was crying so hard, all I wanted was for you to hug me, to hold me for a few minutes, just act like you actually like me for that long. But no. You told me to shut up, I was crying too loud. Did you know that shoulders muffle crying, maybe even stop tears? Just because I'm not a little kid anymore doesn't mean I don't need some comfort from you now and again. Where else am I supposed to turn for that? There's only so much friends can do and I can't ask them for anything. You'd say it's selfish anyway. And maybe it is. But that could be because you don't have any. I'll honestly say that I don't think I can trust you. Not with anything important anyway. Then again, you wouldn't notice or care anyway.


Love?
    Me