will i ever be ok?
i ask myself as i sit in a pile of folders and loose leaf papers
the pieces of paper hold memories
the folders, things that i want to hide
i see more folders than paper
that scares me
i uncross then recross my legs pretzel style
then fumble through what is right in front of me
i open the folder named 'you'
i hate opening this file
mostly because you can be the best and the worst part of my life
flipping through the contents, i stop
'i can't deny that what i did was wrong' it reads
i don't want to revisit the emotions that followed this memory
so i keep flipping until the end, then close the folder
one
two
three
four
tears drop from my face and splash onto the folder
i hate that you make me cry
i hate that you make me smile
i hate that you cut me so deeply
and i hate that i allowed it
was it my fault?
do i deserve the bad times you bring?
i guess sometimes i do
but
as i sit in this mess i wonder about why i want to hide so many things
i am still unhappy in my own skin
therefore i allow myself to be treated the way i am
it only makes sense
my brain says to believe it
yet my heart knows i'm lying to myself
lord, please help me
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