Yours sincerely

Punch in the stomach. How I feel when I'm in your presence. And all that was once settled finds it's way back to the surface. Unable to shake away the sickness you cause me, I avert my sight. Couldn't look you straight in the eyes even if I tried. I simply can't stand the way you hurt me by simply existing. And yet I wouldn't have ever been born if you hadn't made me. But make no mistake, I don't owe you my life, I owe you nothing. Not anymore. Not after all you took from me: my childlike innocence, my trust, my good faith, my sweet ignorance... Reality is a burden and also the only thing you gave to me. You make my heart feel heavy when all I wanted was for it to be as light as a feather, able to fly in the winds of wonder, never held down by sturdy shackles that impose limits on my dreams of an ideal world. I desire nothing more than to be free but how when I can't find release from the pain cradling me? And a lonely tear escapes. Then two. (A strange feeling of déjà vu takes over) You're still minding your own business. I'm as silent as the night. You don't notice. (You never do) I'm relieved. (But isn't that a problem? You never notice anything that doesn't concern yourself) But ten years ago I didn't shed a single tear, so why now? Have I gone soft? Yes... Ironically by the hands of the second person who broke my heart. Is it any wonder I have a hard time letting people in? The closer they are the deeper the cut. And maybe I just don't want to bleed anymore...