The Things I Leave Unsaid

23. Hating Who We Are

This is dedicated to @Badaseff who has a hilarious, amazing About Me profile, is an awesome writer/poet, and who needs to learn to love herself for who she is. Don't we all though...

Her

Seeing her face brings me pain. She reminds me every day that I am unloved and alone, that no one will ever want me. Maybe she's right.

She teases and tortures me, saying I will never be loved, I'm horrible, an ugly beast, unworthy of true affection. Disgusting. She tells me I don't deserve to live.

And though I want to run away, I can't. I need to be with her at all times. When she walks away, I do too..all the while though, I'm waiting for the moment she comes back to me, just like she always does.

Seeing me just tears her apart, and she gets back at me by taunting and screaming and mentally tearing me limb from limb. I feel cold and numb.

She doesn't even act like I'm a real person. Just because I'm different doesn't mean I'm not exactly like her too! I am. I have feelings. I have thoughts. I wish I didn't but I do. I feel it when she punches me, pounds on me, cries out and blames me for everything.

She never smiles, not when I'm there, and if she won't smile, neither can I.

I wish I could show her how wonderful she is but that would only make it worse.

She tells me I'm the reason she cuts herself, making pictures in the red rivers streaming out of her and spattering me with them.

I deserve it.

I have those scars too. Every last one and they never go away.

Every time she hurts herself, she hurts me too. She's a part of me and I can't let go.

My blood is everywhere.

She says I look better that way and I watch as she falls asleep, crying.

Me.

Staring at them.

I'm angry. They've betrayed me so many, many times but it seems that no matter what I do, they won't leave me be.

They're always there, lurking in my shadow, waiting for me to turn to the glass and spare them a glance.

It's all their fault. They're the reason I'm unhappy, the reason we are both covered in scars. They are battle wounds from our fights. I'm the only one who's screaming though during them. They seem to mimic me, and make me feel ugly and stupid without even trying until I become even more enraged.

It's all their fault.

I can't bear to look at them another second.

So I take one last glance into the blood-spattered mirror and walk away.

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A/n: It's about my reflection and I, if it wasn't clear. Hope the explanation is completely unnecessary(: thank you for reading, vote, comment and follow for more poetry, aye.

~Dust the Great