Vannah

United States

Y'know, I really hope I can pull off the cool mysterious deep writer persona. That'd be sick.

Message to Readers

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Not My Fire, But Yours

June 21, 2020

FREE WRITING

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Oh I-I, I want to scream at you!
I know I shouldn't... 
I always know when I shouldn't,
yet I can never figure out when I should.
So today I don't care!

I can't say you broke my heart, 
I can't say you betrayed my trust. 
But I am angry with you,
more and more every day.
Your ears are shut to whatever I have to say.
But I'm never allowed to be angry.

I'm stuck daily, holding it in and in and in,
Swallowing the flames that bubble up inside my throat scratching to escape,
Willing me to just let up for one single second. 

It's always my fault, it always has been. 
Before it was so easy to accept that place,
to accept my ineptitude. 
But I'm not sad. I'm not a problem- at least not always. 

I realize that when I hold off my anger towards you I only fuel my hatred for myself. 

Oh how I hate you.

I'm not allowed to be angry? 

Oh I hate you.

I hate you so much,
I hate that you made me hate you and turned around to rebuke me for it when I confessed it.
Saying it was yet again my fault.
I got us here. 
Perhaps it is. 
Perhaps I should've snapped sooner. 
Perhaps. 

I know that somewhere inside I will always love you, as I always have, but I also know that I hate you.
Truly. 
Because no matter whose fault this all is, I'm left here,
With a non-broken heart and a throat full of flames.
You said you'd sacrifice everything for me, but when it came to the flames,
rather than getting burned you left me to deal with my fire on my own.
And now that I have all these burn scars you do nothing but scold me for playing with fire. 

So read this. Over and over and over.
This, is why I will never speak to you again,
Because I'm better than that now, and you deserve those flames.
I won't keep them to myself anymore.
But I don't want to burn anyone. 
So let my words engulf you, for this is my way of freeing myself from your ignorance,
and burning our stupid, flimsily little figurative bridge. 

 

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