A Story of Regret

Here' a little something I remember about you, a little something that I'll always associate with you. You listened to regret and only thought of the regret everyone should have felt when they left you, when they hurt you, The regret you wish you could collect like dimes to turn into Love later on.

You didn't know how to regret your own actions. To think of your own actions. To see my reactions.

here's something you may never know, here's something you'll never know about me and my regret:

While you slept beneath velvet curtains of anguish, struggling to be free, struggling to see what was happening in the world around you, I was there. I was just outside your door, my heart calling to you. "save me. save me. save me." I pleaded with you to hear me, to open your door, to find me. To find us.

Now, so many years later, I regret that you couldn't save me from that night. And you didn't know how to save me from the months that followed.

I was so torn. I was so torn. I was so torn apart that when I pulled myself together I made the effort to leave myself out of it completely. I sewed each wound carefully, with thread of silver, as thin as tinsel, cautiously. I patched my wounded heart, I patched my wounded soul. And I left the pieces of myself out. That was when you lost me.

That's when the world lost me.

That's when I lost myself.

Do you know the things he said to me? Do you know how he made me feel? Will you ever be able to stop the tears that came the night he screamed and screamed and hurt me while like a pathetic, like a weak, like myself I fought to come closer and closer. And closer and closer.

Do you know what it's like to have your own skin betray you? To have your own body to upstage you? Do you know what its like to have yourself torn down by a man? To let him ravage your soul?

Here's something as simple as it can be: I'm barely the shell of my former self because I can no longer love myself.

I cannot love the woman that let a man do the things to her what he did to me.

Do you know what regret means? Do you know what it means to retrogress the ways in which I have?

Will you remember me? Will you remember the sweetness in me? Will you remember the nights you abandoned me to find me in the streets the next morning? Will you ever see that you were the only one that could have helped me?

A continuation

I've lost myself. I've lost my style. I've lost my rhythm.

It came to a point in my life where the only thing I could do was runaway from myself. The only thing I could do was forget who I was. The only thing I could do was lose the peices of me that made me Me.

I want to say that I regret it but I cannot. I can't say that I regret protecting myself.

I've been hurt. And I can't let the wounds heal. I pick and I pick and they fester and they fester. Because I feel like if I let them close, they'll be forgotten. How many times did I make excuses for the way other people hurt me only to have someone else, someone new come and rip the scars. Tear me wounds and wounds and wounds to be larger and larger and larger.

And I think I got so afraid of bleeding out. I was so afraid of the oncoming pain. I was so afraid of letting anyone touch me, cause I'd had so many hurt me, that I pushed, I ran, I have yet to return.

I've hidden my soul so far that I question, Do I have one at all? Which person am I? The one that I hid away and remember myself as? Or the one I've become?

How does one refind themself? How do I remember what I really am?