a positive side to everything.

It's hard to admit, but I've come to realize that my number one trigger is heartbreak. The feeling of inadequacy; the feeling of knowing they would rather be with someone else than you, someone better than you. You fall in love, put your heart and soul on the line, and then realize that your heart and soul, your mind, your body, are not good enough- even for the simplest of assholes. It creates a sickness in my mind, my body. All I think about is how to make myself better. Be better. Be better.

You worthless fat fuck, of course he would choose her over you. You would even choose her over you. As long as you look like this, no one will ever love you. You do not deserve it. What have you done to deserve it, hm? So what if you put everything on the line and made a complete ass of yourself, so what if you always put him first and did absolutely everything for him. That's what fat fucks like you are for; of course he would take advantage. You need to be better. You are disgusting and worthless, and will be treated as such. To have love and appreciation, you have to be thin and beautiful.

It hurts, yet however masochistic, I love the fuel. It's less "Imissyouloveyouwantyoutowantmeback" and more "fuckyouI'mgonnarubitinyourface".



Dear Selfish-prick,
though I will always have love for you (for whatever fucked up reason), you will never have control of my heart nor I ever again. It will be your turn to hurt, to feel inadequate, to beg and cry and apologize and regret. This time, I'll be the one who is free.
Sincerely,
Jayde.




-----



what a mess you've made of
your pretty head; I
can't believe
they've left me here all alone
with you again.
and I blurred the line
between excuses and lies.
didn't realize you could
still make me want to cry.
(didn't realize you could
still make me want to cry.)

and it's always dead,
my endless time.
memories I can't get back and
conversation I'm trying to forget.
this will be the last talk.
this will be the last song.
this will be the last time
and this will be the last apology.

I hate myself for making you hate me.
I hope to god you remember everything.
pick up the pieces of things I broke for you.
it's just not right and I just can't love you.

I can't believe that you made it sound so true,
awful things that you think I did to you.
the memories that you made up in your head,
it's just not right and I can't go on like this.

and I'm ashamed of who I tried to be.
make for sure that they'll take away these...
I'm sick and tired of all these boring burnt up feelings.
I wish you'd let me be.
The Last Song, by S