When he made me cry so hard, I ended up puking my dinner out, still hacking and coughing, almost as if my still beating heart would emerge from within the rancid mess.
When I Googled my problems looking for anything or anyone to please help me. Because everything felt like it was slipping away like sand through my fingers.
When I couldn’t sleep and I’m up writing this at 4 in the morning because I’m hurting so much, I wish my heart would stop beating.
When I sat next to boys who fancy me and I don’t even bother because I felt like I was living a lie.
When he made me feel doubly mad at human beings in general because I felt like my world wasn’t present anymore and everything was spinning out of control.
When I would willingly break myself just to be whatever he wanted me to be.
(And he didn’t even stay to make sure the fragments healed right)
That was not love.