I’ve grown cold, numb to the hurt I used to feel because of you. Never will I shed another tear because of you. You played me. Us I no longer see the world through innocent naive eyes. You made me grow up.
That fragile bond that held us together. Like a sweater whose worn seems are constantly being stitched up until they give way. Yet again.
Trying to repair the damage time and time again. Til you give up and it finally sinks in. That it will never be the same. Feel the same. It’ll never look the way it used to. Be the way it used to.
But image is everything. So were gonna wear that sweater as long as none of the torns can be seen. Only you know the real damage that’s been done. Others blissfully unaware of all its sustained. But that’s the way you like it. The way you want it. Even though it couldn’t be further from the truth.
It’s like putting a Band-Aid over a wound and looking the other way. Hoping that covering it up will save you from having to deal with the problem yourself. But the more you ignore the problem the worse it gets. Soon that simple cut, that problem that you ignored, that you prayed would just. Go away. Gets infected.
And that area now that causing so much pain and so much grief and so much hurt. Is spreading. So I take immediate and extreme action. I cut it off. Sever it. Remove it from my body. Amputate. You all look at me like I’m crazy but we’ve all done it before. Instead of dealing with the problem we ignore it. I prefer to cut it off. Completely. Maybe that’s my downfall.
But honestly I don’t mind it this way. Its better this way. Because now. I feel nothing. Or try my best to. No let me be honest with you. I still feel hurt despite all that I’ve done to try to distance myself from you. Not wanting to deal with this pain, this hurt, this anger that burdens me. Like an anchor to a ship it weighs me down. Like a rock in my shoe that won’t come out, an ever present reminder. Of the pain you’ve caused.
So my best friend is now novacane; and I long for that numbness it brings. The peace it brings. If only momentarily. But before I go you wanna know what hurts most? More than any broken limb or bone ever could? The fact that you’re so caught up yourself that you don’t even realize the damage you’ve done.
Or maybe you do. Maybe you do realize all the pain you’ve caused me. Us. But if I know you even a little despite the monster you’ve become, or maybe always were? Then it’s your stubbornness-no your pride that’s keeping you from fixing all the wounds you’ve caused. Leaving us all bruised, battered, beaten, and broken beyond repair.