Fuck you

That’s it, I can’t do it anymore. I know now. I understand and I think it’s about fucking time my heart understood. It’s reluctant and hesitant but I’m sorry you whiny piece of muscle, we have no other choice.

I’ve always wanted to do a post like this, where I’d  have to totally purge you from my system. I can’t take it anymore. I cannot take these horrible urges to scream or the hysterics I put my family through.

My body is too weak. It cannot take all the shivering, short breaths and shaky hands anymore. My family will never reach the state where they can watch me crumble and build me back up. They cannot stand that I am not happy; they cannot accept that I am depressed. They have no time for my ‘nonsense’.

I’m giving you up for good. I will not like anymore posts on tumblr because it reminds me of you. I will not keep pictures of you in my phone. I will avert my head when my bus goes by ‘Ren Bakers’ and I will make horribly mean jokes about you behind your back in front of your friends.

I’ll remove that fucking page on my blog that I dedicated to us and I will trash all the songs I wrote when I dreamt of singing them to you. I’ll stop baking because you encouraged me to; eat breakfast and spice because I FUCKING CAN.

And I’ll study the fuck out of engineering because that’s the one thing you wanted to study but was pushed into business. Of course, unless you were lying too.

I’m giving every fucking thing back to you. Here, have all the pictures I saved on Tumblr that reminds me of you:

“Every nerve in my body could be damaged or numb, and I’d still be able to feel you.”

“Hell is
loving you in my sleep
and waking up alone.”

“My heart yearns toward you.”

All the poems I wrote of you in my phone:


There are so many other things
That I could be doing with my time
Right now.

But my minds seems to want to do
Nothing but
Think of you.

And my restless heart wants
Nothing but
To rest with thoughts of
Missing you.


I’m always on a look out
For things that tell me you
Still think about me.

And it’s been so long and there
Hasn’t been a word;
Not even a sign.
To tell me that you even missed me.

But I guess
That’s the whole point,


I love you.
All I wish for us is for
Things to go back to how it was before.

You came back
I tried my best
To make things right again.

But deep down I know
I can’t have you anymore.
I can’t keep you.

Because all you could offer me
When you came back

Was pity love.


It’s okay that you broke my heart,
I thought you would have.

But you were supposed to give me closure.
At the very least explain to me

But you didn’t
And like an open book I am
Left here.

Abandoned and unfinished.

You didn’t even bother to close me up;
Sew my wounds shut,
And put me back onto my shelf.
You left me bleeding.

Now I’m so broken and lost.
I’m not even sure if anyone else can find
The story of me.


I breathe a little easier
When I’m around people who
Do not know or
Remind me of you.

I smile a little wider around
Colourful and shiny things that
I have not twined into
The memory of us.

But my heart still beats fast and
My stomach still twists
At the mention of your name
And recollection of you.

And I’ll take all my love back. All these poems. Years of waiting, music dedications, time and wistful thinking. My words, never to be yours to bleed on paper ever again.


Well then I guess it’s time to break out the bubbly because congratulations, you’re the only person on this Earth that by far has been able to come this close to breaking me.

I will take the pills because I am breaking. But I will not break. No. Not for someone as cowardly as you. Someone who doesn’t know something good when it fucking knees him in the balls.

You’re right, Michael. I am too good for you. And yes, you are a jerk. You aren’t dense, dear, you’re simply turning a blind eye. Check your watch, boy, it’s time to man up. For someone as old as yourself, you disgust me.

So get away from me. I’ll take those sleepless nights over thinking of you, ignore that itch in my heart that occurs time to time and blank you out just as you have me. Don’t even bother talking to me voluntarily anymore. I’m not your charity case to support. You don’t have to struggle to explain anymore-isn’t that great? At most we could be civil.

I was as real as it gets; the only girl who will care so much, and you blew it. You don’t mess with the best, honey, play with fire and you’ll get burned.

So thank your lucky stars I’m not out to obliviate you because from here on

You are dead to me.

I refuse to be a second choice.



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