Paperweight

You never loved me; you loved the sickness in me.

most of us needed a little something extra to be okay.

But wouldn’t you rather be real and flawed, then some synthetic perfect girl who never really lived?”

All of me stitched together and straining at the seams.

‘The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off’

She never considers that it was writing that got me here in the first place, destroying me from the inside out.

My body knew before I did: She was still gone.

All this pretty is a goddamn lie.

I am reflecting so much that I can hardly breathe.

I stare at the wall behind her for so long that my eyes drift out of focus. I let them. It’s nice to see the world that way sometimes, blurred around the edges like I’ve sunk to the bottom of the ocean and am staring up at the sun.