To You.

Written 1/1/09:

This is me, feeling a brand of fierce I didn't know I had in me. No, I don't hate you, and yes, I'd love to forgive you, but I'm in no hurry to play nice. What you did was low, and I deserved better than 'I'm sorry' in the form of some offhand drunken texts. I can't take that as sincere, just like I could never take you seriously, good time boy. I think someday you'll make a great friend to me, but I wish I hadn't put my hurt in your hands as more.

You let me down; you proved everyone right and made a fool of me and the you I'd become proud of. You proved once again that I am nothing but the nice girl that repeatedly gets used and taken advantage of. But I won't waste my time feeling sorry for myself, because eventually I know someone will see past that, and not use my sunny tendencies. That just wasn't you; consider my lesson learned.

I hope I have an explanation still to come from you. My mind can't process the fine line between sober, drunk, honest, and imagined. Help me out if you have the guts to face what you've done. But I'd understand if you chose to run away and ignore it instead. It's be the easy way out, and I wouldn't put it past you. I hope you can at least prove me wrong there, but I don't know if you will.

Heat of the Moment

I am blindsided, knocked from princess to slave. You don't recover from that kind of spill in no time. I've got bruises that will take time to heal. If you even come around playing curious boy, boking my injuries with sticcks in word and thought, you will be sorry. I'm a nice girl, but I won't let you use me anymore. What's left of my pride is mine, locked away to entrust to someone who won't pour it out like sour liquor. You wasted my time and my virtue. You tried to break me and immature me. Baby, I can reverse you.