You. Haunting Me.

I want you to never have existed.

I know that a lot came of our time together. Logically I know this. I know you shaped who I am today. Knowing this makes me sick because I know how deliberate some of it was. How you were shaping me to be exactly what you wanted. All of my cynicism seems to drip with you. I find myself wondering if these are my opinions or if they are yours.

I hate that you are doing this to some other girl now. That she has no idea. That you are telling her how crazy I was. I bet I’m “the bitch” now aren’t I? The one before me is fine now. She can see the dog. But me, I am the crazy one.

I hate that I miss what I thought we had. What I thought you were. I hate that it was never a reality. It was a really good sale on your part. I bought it hook, line and sinker.

I pretend you don’t exist. That you moved away. Or were just a really bad dream. And it works. Until I see you. Walking down the street with a girl who is most likely two years younger than me. Maybe if you go ten years younger you will really be able to control her. Teach her who she wants to be.

So when I loose control and tell someone I wish you fall off a cliff on a bike trip I will feel guilty for a minute. Take it back. Then realize I don’t take it back.

I don’t really wish you harm. I just have a hard time surviving in a world where you exist. And I would rather you not be here than me. But I can’t control that. And I can’t deal with the terror that grips me every time I hear from you. Every time I see you. This terror that nothing about me is my own. That somehow you are still controlling me. That everything I think, everything I do….it is seeped in you. It is born of you. That I am not the me I was before you. This strong person I present to the world, this independent person is all a front. That I don’t exist at all.

And I hate that you make me want to disappear. To never have existed. To never have made all of the bad choices in my life. Especially you. I hate that I let myself get so beat down, so helpless. That I let you hold me hostage. Threaten me. And it makes me want to not exist. To be done fighting. To be done convincing myself that I am ok. To be done convincing everyone else I’m ok. I’m sick of faking it so no one else is burdened with my pain.

So fuck you. And stop haunting me.

You. Haunting Me.


Venice, United States

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