The tears stream down my cheeks now.
Every one of the voices in my head is calling me a freak now.

I didn't know that "love" could leave me so helpless.
Without you ive become reckless.

But I hate myself for loving you.
Especially because it's not the same as I used to.

I don't know If this is forced or fake.
But it felt real to me, until you got a boyfriend, right now everything just seems like a mistake.

I feel as though the symphonies that we used to sing that seemed like epiphanies may really have just been delayed nails on a chalk board.

You still matter greatly to me,
But it stings to know that I won't ever be enough.

I stay here, smiling, like it's fine because it should be,
But it's not fine, not for me.

I should just be glad,
Glad because you arent angry or upset or sad.

My emotions overpower me completely, I cannot stop the rainstorms from my eyes.

I just want there to be warm days again,
Days where I could wrap myself up inside your scent.

You felt like home, so
I guess im now homeless.

Maybe it's because I wasn't the perfect home for you, but I wanted to be, I tried, but I dont know how to make you happy the way he does, im sorry.

My walls were painted indigo instead of grape purple, and my curtains were periwinkle, but you wanted to let the sun in.

Im sorry my carpet was shag instead of velvet and that the walls were lined with fairy lights.

I wasnt perfect, we both saw the alcohol bottles littering the bedside tables in all of the guestrooms.

It's obvious, why i didnt feel like home.

I have to be quiet in my bedroom at night, I live on the top floor, away from the rest of the world, but Id be lying if I claimed I dont scream your name while I cry sometimes.

It sounds so broken and worthless when I put it out in the open, so obsessed, but I cant help it.

No one loves me like you did.

No one wants me the way you said.

Nobody else in the entirety of this plant is home..

I'm the loser in this scenario,
Because I allowed myself to get tied up with a girl who could never hunger for me the way I hunger for her.

She has been fed time and time again by the love of those who surround her,
but I am empty, besides the lies in my throat and the daggers in my chest.

I'm doubting if this is love at all.
If you ask me, all this is, is pain.
And I'm suffering.

But after all, arent I deserving?

I'm worthy of all that I have endured upon chasing her, because love takes more than just falling, you have to work for love.

Im here.

Stricken with paranoia of hatred, and I dont know where I am anymore.

So i suppose I'm gone.

     - Ariah Christman