Why am I ashamed to admit that I’m not doing so great?
Is it because you’ve made me feel pathetic whenever I exposed my vulnerability?
Is it because I’m aware of how you’ll manipulate your way into twisting my own pain against me?
I’m too angry at you, and how false everything is in your head. At how you don’t have the slightest clue of how much of my soul I had to sacrifice in order to stay, in spite of your lack of respect, lack of appreciation and accusations.
I’m too angry at you, and how it means nothing to you that I’m sitting here waiting on you while the most precious years of my life are passing me by.
I’m too angry at you, and that’s why I can’t sleep.
