Not You

Not You
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1. Not. You.

You told me you loved me. 

So I believed you.

That was a year ago. 

Now you are far too blinded by your massive ego

To see me.

You always have been, anyway.

But back then, it was truly I who was the blind one. 

How could I not realize

What a mistake you were?

I remember when it started.

You asked me why I wouldn't talk to you

Why I was so 

Shy.

I couldn't tell you

I had a mental disorder called

Anxiety.

So I would tell you I was sorry. 

You forgave me.

Then you started a rumor

About me.

You told

One

And they

Told one hundred.

I didn't want to do what the rumor said I wanted to do with you.

Why did you spread that rumor?

You saw me hugging my best friend one day.

He was going through some stuff. 

Bad stuff.

You threatened him without me knowing.

He told me.

I confronted you.

You threatened to kill him.

I didn't doubt you, with your collection of guns.

I stopped hugging him.

For his safety, not for you.

Did you foresee his suicide?

When I still wasn't good at talking to you

You got mad.

There were

Knuckles

on 

skin.

I apologized.

You forgave me.

You wanted me to kiss you at prom.

It was the last song.

I didn't want to.

You didn't like that I was taking things slow.

There was

P

 R

   E

     S

       S

         U

           R

             E

               .

You leaned in

And I

leaned back.

You got mad again.

When we finally did kiss. 

It felt wrong.

It felt forced.

I didn't want to have my first kiss on your bed.

But I didn't want to make you mad again.

Some said I needed to break things off with you.

I couldn't.

I was in love.

Most said I was lucky to have someone so hot, anyway.

There were times where I doubted my love for you, though. 

The times when you controlled me.

The times when you checked other girls out, whilst being so protective over me. 

Then one day. 

You'd simply had enough of me.

Rude remarks.

Horrible slurs.

They were all that escaped your lips after that. 

I fell.

Down

Into

Deep

Dark

Hole

Call

Depression.

My therapist laughed at the stories.

She called them

Boy troubles.

What everyone goes through.

I was alone. 

Then I met her.

She had also been "Yours."

She told me

He was

Abusive.

She taught me how to play the guitar.

She ran laps with me in the woods. 

She kissed me. 

She hates the color yellow. 

So do I.

She hates you and your conservative friends.

So do I. 

She does not hurt me.

She is the one for me.

Not you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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