I want to face you.
I want to be brave and look you in the eye as I tell you the ruin you left me in.
I want you to see me; hear me.
But you won’t…
You will never get to see the scars I carry around with me everyday. You won’t see the tears I can’t control on the days I’m sad over you. You won’t hear the lies when I tell people that I don’t know why I’m upset when I know my soul is crying out for you.
I won’t get to see your face as I tell you that you were the person that let me down the most in life. That I tried my best to love you and forgive you, but found it impossible. That I longed for a relationship with you more than I have with anyone, ever.
I used to try and justify all the bad things you did to me. I tried to paint pretty pictures of every bad memory I had involving you, so I could just forget and move on. But those pictures are cracking.
The darkness they once hid is seeping in and tainting a once lively memory. My trees have morphed into creepy figures, casting shadows along a once green landscape. The sunlight I fought so hard to portray has been all but sucked out completely.
You are my darkness.
The tainted spot in my life that I try to hide from the world. The secret I want to bury and never see again. The one thing I am most ashamed of.
It’s always been you.
Since the first time you broke my heart, it’s been you. Because you were the one person that I should’ve never had to protect it from. You were the one that was supposed to stand guard over it, dad.
But you didn’t and now I’m left with a void in my life that I just can’t seem to fill. I’m left with the good stories I told myself to convince me that you actually loved me once. I’m left with a thousand lies I wish were true, and a million truths I wish would go away.
I’m left with you.
The scars you gave me. The stories you taught me to tell. The hole you created. The tears and pain you caused.
Are you proud of the destruction you left in your wake? Do you even ever think about what you’ve done to me? Or was it not worth remembering?
Because I’ve learned that I wasn’t worth remembering. I wasn’t worth fighting for, or least trying for at all. I’m not worth counting in your life.
I don’t count.
Which sucks more than anything because I count you all the time.
I count you when I count heartbreaks. I count you when I count people that hurt me. I count you when I count people that used me. I count you when I count people that threw me away like I meant nothing. I count you when I count people that should’ve loved me.
You are the reason that there are mornings I wish I didn’t have to face. You are the reason my pillows are tear stained. You are the reason I wish I was someone else. You are the reason I hold people way too tightly. You are the reason I love way too much.
Because you created this broken person that only wishes their daddy could’ve loved them. This person that feels the need to validate themselves by making others love them instead. This person that is overly nice to people because they can’t stand the thought of anyone else walking away.
I’m a product of all the bad things you did to me and all of the lies I used to cover it up.
I guess that makes me a cracked picture too.