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The Tragedy That Is My Life
The Tragedy That Is My Life

The Tragedy That Is My Life

kassidijordankassidijordan

Think about it. Two people once in love. So much that thy made you. They as seperate human beings became one. A family.Your mom carried you in her womb. She waited for your heart to beat. What was once her heart beating now became your heart beat. She carried around your small being. She continues to let that love swell inside her, letting you spoil her body. Bu would you do that? No. After you're born she caters to your every need. Thenlater on in life when you "don't need" her you find someone to need You find him. Except you dont know how to love someone without sex because someone took advantage of you.

Even tho he asked, he took it before you were old enough. You didn't even love him. You gave him you body not as an act of love but an experience. The boy who you actually love, the one hwo you've obsessed over for 4 years, has nothing to take, but he's okay with that. Except he takes it before ya'll are even offical. At this moment I knew it would be nothing but empty emotionless sex. I thought I could change him. I can't even fucking change myself. I spend thousands of dollars each year on makeup, in an attempt to be someone who I'm not, but I'm still me. The worthless piece of shit I call myself. I am worthless, but I'll let him tell me otherwise.

You let him build your heart back from the woman who made it tore it down. She told you that you were too fat for anyone to love you. You told yourself she was doing this to keep you healthier. But she's just an asshole because her love is running dry. He tells you you're beautiful. You try to believe it but you can't. Soon enough he gets bored because men can't be fucking happy when they have everything handed to them, and someone who wants to give them their world. He worried too much about smoking his cigerettes that blacked his lungs, that he didn't realize that he was poisining your heart and making it blacker with time. Normally people smoke cigerettes because they are stressed. He smoked cigerettes every time after we had sex. Sorry I was stressful.

He was so busy getting high that he forgot I was the annoying weed that would never leave his life. We would tell each other empty I love you's just to please each other, but it pleased neither. I haven't made love to someone in 3 months, we broke up two weeks ago. We only had sex, not love. I haven't meant I love you ever because he rushed it. I cry myself to sleep knowing that he's not for me, but I still want him. I still WANT him. It's not a need anymore, but the real question is, "Was it ever?"

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About The Author
kassidijordan
kassidijordan
About This Story
Audience:
18+
Posted:
7 Jul, 2017
Genre:
Romance, Tragedy, Psychological
Type:
Sad, Serious
Words:
486
Favorites:
0
Views:
247

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