from 2016. when it was bad.

when my dad catches me sneaking in at 3am i dont know what hes more disappointed in. the smell of cigarettes on my breath. the loss of trust. or the sight of tears in my eyes from letting you get to me. he taught me better. better than to slowly kill myself and better than letting a simple boy make me feel less than the goddess he raised me to be.
when i wake up at 3am clutching my chest i dont know what to feel. and i dont know what to do. so i grab the pack stored away in my drawer and use my lit candle to ease my thoughts. i wipe my face and i close my eyes but the scenes of me begging you to leave me alone always flash.
it was 3am when i searched up harassment and manipulation. it was 3am when i stared at myself in the mirror and wondered how i let out get this far, this bad, this messed up.
it was 3pm that i told somebody. it was the first time i ever felt like i could breathe. it was the first time i ever felt like i wasn’t going into battle by myself.

but the tears never stopped and I’m out of cigarettes. the war is not won. i still wake up at 3am and now i beg for 3pm.

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