What happens when he actually treats you right, though? Will you both live happily ever after? Or will you push him away and not trust him? You’re so used to being stabbed by the ones that you love that now you’ve become the one who’s holding the knife.
Sometimes I wonder if I should tell you all that goes on in my head. Because honestly, I know you have no idea. But I just can’t. Bringing it up, bringing up what happened? It hurts. It hurts me like nothing ever has before. It’s easier to keep pretending like it never happened, and just deal with it myself instead. But months have gone by and I’m scared. How many months will go by with me still remembering what you did, until my heart can’t take the pain you caused anymore?
“Dead girl walking”, the boys say in the halls.
“Tell us your secret”, the girls whisper, one toilet to another.
I am that girl.
I am the space between my thighs, daylight shining through.
I am the bones they want, wired on a porcelain frame.