I Stopped Blaming Myself For Letting You In

I woke up feeling like I had been strangled from screaming into my pillow until I felt nothing. The pain has left my body along with my sense of hope and faith and you have left me empty.

I was blind to the fact that you didn’t mean for me to fall in love with you, it just happened and instead of saying anything, you strung me along and dragged me through the dirt because you never had any intentions to really care or love for me. I was a pawn in a game you took joy in and I wanted to blame myself for letting this happen.

I want to say that I was weak, but I remember when vulnerability was beautiful. I wanted to let you in because I thought you could love me in the way I was falling in love with you. Your beautiful, perfect smile made me believe that you could give me the companionship I had been looking for, but that wasn’t the case.

I wanted to blame myself for being so damn naive, but I deserve better than that. I was beautifully open and willing to let you take my heart from my chest and now there is an empty space there.

Instead of blaming myself for giving you a piece of me, I remind myself that you took it. You took it with no intention of caring for it the way you should have. You took it out of selfishness and I hate you for that.

With blood on your hands, you kissed me, touched me, pretended to care for me leaving red stained on my body. I tried washing your memory off, but it’s embedded in my skin, in the veins that were once connected to the heart that no longer beats inside of me.

I’m mad and you are my biggest regret, but I no longer blame myself for the pain I feel now. I realize that you took advantage of my love and that was out of my control and, although I’m still hurting, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I was never to blame for any of this.