I'm thankful for the lies you told,

And for every vow you broke,

I'm thankful for every single way,

You pretended to love me so,

I'm thankful for every insult,

And how you would belittle me,

I’m thankful for every sleepless night,

And all the times down upon my knees,

I’m thankful for all the painful ways,

You picked my soul apart,

I’m thankful for the day you cheated,

You never deserved my heart,

Though I do not regret ever loving you,

Or begging God for you to change,

Because it doesn’t matter what woman it is,

You will treat us all the same,

I’m thankful for all those awful times,

Because I learned what love is all about,

And now that I have a man who treats me right,

I am sure without a doubt,

That it was not me who made you mad,

Or made you act those ways,

I did not cause you to stray from me,

It is not my fault I was betrayed,

I did not cause those holes in the wall,

Or the bruises on my skin,

I am not any of those awful names,

That you convinced others I had been,

So through these words I thank you,

Because without you I wouldn’t know,

What a real man feels like,

I’m thankful you let me go.

Reason number one:

*sigh*

I am a bitch.

Two:

My exhaustion from all the emotional labor I put in each day seems to appear on my face to others as Resting Bitch Face.

Three:

I am not an inviting person. Something about the trauma of being molested at 5yrs old does not allow my anxiety to think to invite strangers into my body despite them announcing " I'm a hugger" as they uninvitedly wrap all their unfamiliar arms around by tense and triggered body. I give, really bad hugs.

Four:

I don't like shaking hands. Something about an outstretched hand reminds me too much of a weapon, of my mother's fist. I flinch at strangers introductions and do not meet their empty desire for physical contact for the sake of "polite" pleasantries. I am always on guard. Protect, Protect, Protect! I can't seem to bring myself to break down my trauma enough to meet social norms.

Five:

I am a BITCH

Six:

I'm introverted. Like extremely introverted. Like Alessia Cara, "stand offish, don't want what you offering" introverted. And this would not normally make me a bitch but since I'm both pretty and introverted motherfuckers don't respect my duality and dismiss my introvertedness as stuck up bitch behavior and sooooo....

Seven:

I am INDEED a Bitch

Eight:

I don't smile a lot. Between the depression and the insecurity of my gapped teeth I just forget that people feel more comfortable around people who have inviting mouths. And my mouth is a glitched jaw, is sword and shield, is thorn bushes, is a room of warmth, dampness with sharp, pointy things to poke your ego on.

Nine:

I don’t speak to everyone. I don’t speak as often to even those who know me. After spending years with a stutter, my tongue tripping over all my words like a drunk uncle no one invited to the conversation but you’re gonna get his 2cents and beer breath anyway. I find I try to mean all the things I say when I find something worth saying even if that something isn’t the nicest thing…. Because

Ten: I am a bitch

Powdery chalk of various colors

mingle with ink of vivd chroma

that drip the same sanguine

hues against the page

brisk air fills lungs as steps

to nowhere accumulate

to impossible numbers

as sweat pours from pores

I am the mirror to voices

for eyes that do not hear

I am the sponge for your

briny emotions

I am the heart that has

quivered at your touch

and the hands that have

caressed your soul

Stay with me a while

at this swing on the porch

and let me feel your warmth

as we settle in for wine

and words...

You seemed so sincere

Told me what I wanted to hear

Said you'd always be there

But now it seems you just don't care 

I'm all alone now

On my own now 

I'll make it through somehow 

Find my own way

Fight another day

Try to get by

Try not to die

Try not to fall for any more of your lies

I have seen the dawn 

Now that you're gone 

I will never be another pawn 

Three in the morning,

as the shadows toll,

you sit alone -

born from the clouds

but strewn on ground,

sitting on mound

of dissembled lies,

curled and swirled

in fetal crush.

Only you can hear

your heartbeat straining

to be heard above

roar of pounding rain.

Unseen behind white smoke

of somber indifference,

you fight to escape

loveless husk

when you don’t

even love yourself

in the vertigo

of midnight strife.

Erased and defaced

in still silence,

you decide

your own fate.

#Challenge #LetterToGirlWhoSitsAlone