Now playing – maybe you shouldn’t come back/Demi Lovato

“Shouldn’t Come Back”
See you calling again

I don’t wanna pick up, no, oh

I’ve been laying in bed

Probably thinking too much, oh, oh
Sorry I’m not sorry for the times

I don’t reply, you know the reason why
Maybe you shouldn’t come back

Maybe you shouldn’t come back to me

Tired of being so sad,

Tired of getting so mad, baby

Stop right now,

You’ll only let me down, oh, oh

Maybe you shouldn’t come back

Maybe you shouldn’t come back to me
Trying not to forget,

Should be easier than this oh, oh

And all the birthdays you’ve missed

I was only a kid oh, oh
Sorry I’m not sorry for the times

I don’t reply, you know the reason why
Maybe you shouldn’t come back

Maybe you shouldn’t come back to me

Tired of being so sad,

Tired of getting so mad, baby

Stop right now,

You’ll only let me down, oh, oh

Maybe you shouldn’t come back

Maybe you shouldn’t come back to me

To me
Sorry I’m not sorry for the times
Maybe you shouldn’t come back

Maybe you shouldn’t come back to me

Tired of being so sad,

I’m tired of getting so mad, baby

Stop right now,

You’ll only let me down, oh, oh

Maybe you shouldn’t come back

Maybe you shouldn’t come back to me

Maybe you shouldn’t come back to me

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Dear father

I never know what to do when your names comes up on my phone. Sometimes I don’t have the energy to say anything, sometimes I have too much to say.  I’m tired of being sad. I’m tired of believing you will change. 

How is a daughter supposed to feel about a father who never wanted her?  

I find myself tangled in your lies, over and over again. I see your name permeated into my skin because I occasionally open my veins from not wanting to share the same blood as a liar. 

What does a daughter do when her father betrayed her time and time again?

goodbyes aren’t easy

You’ve been showing up in my head a lot this week, I guess I just wonder if this is how you felt for so long. I’ve also been wondering if you had known then, or if it was on impulse. I wonder what you wanted to talk to me about. I wonder if you would’ve told me. I wonder if I could’ve stopped you. 

I also wonder where you went

The hurt and the harm

I think I’ve been hurt a lot lately, and I’m coming to the realization that it is in fact hurt and not anger. Like I said before, you people can’t deny what’s hurt you. I’m not sure if they intentionally hurt me, or if I willingly walk into nets of hurt on the daily.  I do believe that I still hold anger in certain situations, like my dad who never chose me. Or friends who stabbed me in the back knowingly. 

The only way for me to free from the hurt is to rid myself of the anger. And maybe that’s where I’ll be focused now. 

Hospitals

the long fluorescent hallways, filled with girls like me

Long gowns and scarred knees

The boys who talk in their sleep, 

The one thing we have in common is that we all uncontrollably weep

For the person that we used to be

But now I linger in this lonely place

Searching for myself in any trace

Rant:

But you don’t get to choose what hurts me, you just got to choose the words that you said, and the names that you labelled me and likely continue to label me. I think that some people forget that words can destruct someone’s soul. But hey, it’s not your fault if someone can’t love you. You probably deserve better, anyway. How about we stop feeling like burdens to those who make us feel so small. I know I’m done with it. I know I’ve weeded out the people who can’t love me. Ive replaced them with gardens of authenticity. I’m learning to love myself so I can cover the scars from words that hit my skin too sharply. I’m starting to find love that doesn’t make me someone else’s punching bag. I think you should do the same.

Random mental health update:

I haven’t written in so long. It’s been a crazy while. I was admitted to hospital, stayed five days, and then convinced them to dishcharge me because it was too much. I ended up coming out of there with trauma. That’s right, I now have a diagnosis of ptsd on top of my other issues. Trauma is not new to me, but this form of it is. I have uncontrollable shaking anytime an emotion comes up. I’ve also had a med change which has unleashed some intense bpd traits. I have graduated from the antidepressants (they don’t work for me) to the he antipsychotics. Woohoo. I feel like a real crazy person.

As for relationships I’m struggling as I let go of someone who weren’t healthy for each other. I’ve been distanced from some other friends, which is fair I guess I’m a lot to handle. There’s no point to this post. I just needed to write. 

Dear Justin,

Today is your 21st birthday.

And you’re not here. 

I’m laying here, wondering where you are. I also wonder if you know what’s happening here. Do you know that I fucking miss you? Because I do. And I hope you know that. Are you around when it’s 2am and the world is quietly telling me to go to sleep. Or is that you whispering that it’s okay?

I remember talking about the future. I guess this was at a time both of us saw futures for ourselves. Yours drained out first, and then mine started fumbling away. Anyway, you always wanted dogs. Great Danes, and a country home. Looking back, there never was a lot you wanted. Maybe I should’ve seen your demise coming.

Maybe I should’ve met up with you that week. I know you kept asking me. But I “didn’t have time,” you should’ve told me to go fuck myself. Would you have told me you were leaving? Could I have helped in any way? 

You knew I was sad. You knew I’d understand. But I wasn’t there. I’m sorry. I’m never fucking there. I’m still not here.

You’re not here.

It’s your 21st fucking birthday and you’re not here.

Fuck you. 

Fuck this.

I’m sorry. 

I miss you everyday my friend.

I’m sorry I let you down. 

I’ll be there.