I am craving…. love.
I am craving warmth.
I am craving affection, and a gentle touch.
I am craving the things she robbed me of as I was learning how to be me.
I was 10, and I hated the mirror. Look at my ugly face, and these pimples, and this body fat, my ears, my nose, my teeth. The list exceeds a mile long. I should’ve been telling myself how beautiful I was, and that my eyes were an emerald sea just begging for you to ask, get to know me.
I mastered the ponytail, and the half up half down, but my skills never got better as you never did anything else..
I watched with kindred eyes behind the scenes, at the mother I wanted- the person I needed to love me.
She drank, and smoke and drank some more. Stayed silent in her room and sat staring at the tile floor.
What was I like? Was I awful? Was I too much to handle?
I wanted to be a ray of sunshine, but I felt like a puddle of mud.
How did you do that to me? Why am I here if I am nothing?
What’s sad is I think that you tried, and gave me what you could from what was left of you, but unfortunately for me I was third in line and scraping the bottom of the barrel.
I am craving love
The love you never gave to me
The love I try to tell myself I so desperately deserved
I should’ve known that I was beautiful, and that the pimples were apart of gross hormones. I should have known that the body fat I thought I had was nothing more than 5 pounds that would stick around. I should’ve known that these things I hate about myself could have been loved, should have been loved.
I am in a whirlpool of self loathe, and depression, of questions and tension.
I always come back to the same question in the end, why?
Hi! Cadlynne Dovel here, hopeless romantics. Withering relationship, mother of one and animal lover beyond what words can express.
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