An open letter to the Pain.
I don’t want to hear your I love you’s.
I don’t want to hear that you feel bad.
I don’t want you to tell me “I’m sorry it took so long.”
I don’t care anymore.
You have this thing about you.
It slices and cuts me where the scars have tried to heal.
And this mind-fuck you’re trying to pull?
I won’t be the victim.
I won’t let you be the victim.
I won’t console you.
I won’t fall into your trap.
I don’t care.
I don’t want you to feel better about yourself.
I don’t want you to apologize.
I don’t want you to weep.
I don’t want you to speak.
In fact, I don’t want you to think about me.
Cut me out like a diseased cancer.
Tear me from your mind.
Destroy what evidence you have that I was even ever there.
Just leave that shelf bare.
And just remember, one tiny little thing.
It was you all along who showed me.
You showed me how much of you was never there.
You showed me how much I was supposed to care.