Fucked Up

Right after you left, all I could feel was used.

Every day, for at least a moment or two, I'm reminded of what happened and I replay the incident in my mind in ridiculous detail. And then I begin to feel this dull, numbing pressure in my chest. It's pain. Pain because I can't believe I let it happen. Pain because I feel so disgusted. Embarrassed.

Ashamed.

I feel this every time. Every day. I blame myself and I hate it.

Because I feel so used.

Now, all I can do is ponder whether I'll ever be good enough for anyone. No matter how many girlfriends of mine assure me that I am, there's a hole in my wall of confidence. I admit, I have my insecurities and I wear my heart on my sleeve. I'm not beautiful. I've never felt that way. But you would think, after what happened, it would restore any confidence I had in myself because..someone wanted me, right? Wrong.

Even just thinking about seeing you again is a heart-wrench. Even just thinking about you, the way you are, the way you act, and the way you talk makes me want to slap you hard in the face.

And the worst part? The loneliness. It's unbearable. There is nobody who can help me get through this. Because it's something, unfortunately, that I have to try to survive from on my own. And it's unbearable.

I don't even know if I'll come out strong at the end.


I have no idea how I'll handle myself the next time I see you. All I know is that you fucked me up. I'm fucked up.