You've changed
“You've changed.”
You will never understand why I do what I do and I doubt if you will ever get an explanation from me. They say the only constant thing in life is change. I still ponder on why you expect me to be the same ol’ motherfuxker every passing day. You expect me to be embrace stagnancy I'm sorry you're just a crooked little fool. I appreciate that you've noticed the changes, I appreciate the fact that you think I'm a lot darker than I used to be, I appreciate also, the fact that you've seen and noticed this true and clearer version of me. I watched people who I loved ignore me, I watch people spit on my face, literally. I've watched people who claim to love me rat me out; eat me out in public; and chew me up like a chunk of animal flesh. I've watched green lights turn to red lights a little too often. I've lost people who I thought would stay forever. I watch people push me over like I'm a piece of furniture. I've watched the ones I protected stab me in the chest with a wild grin on their face and a glint of kill in their eyes. So you don't expect me to be the same person you saw yesterday — because I change a piece of me everyday. Between you and I? I replay every single say before I sleep and select the good actions from the bad like I was filtering old video films. I was an outcast from day one. I let people push me into the mud and stump me with their large boots. I watched everything and everyone pass by, looking, staring, at the broken pieces of me. And no one cared to pick me up. Even my family. No one did.
I use to struggle to pull the dagger from my abdomen after every backstab, I got myself tissues to wipe my own tears and hug myself, after every hurt. I carried out minisurgeries on myself whenever I slit my wrists. I cried. Fuck what the society might think. I did cry. I cried and cried and I let the pains throat me till every last bit of air left me.
I have been through hell.
Look into my eyes and see the scars that will forever be implanted in my memories, on my skin, Look into me and see... The suicidal maniac, look. Look. Look.
Have you seen enough?
Oh no, look on. Don't remove your face—don't avert your gaze. No. Feel what I used to feel, have a taste of what I've shouldered. Yes, how does it feel?
Insipid and appalling, right?
Yeah. Don't ever ask me why I changed again.