I relinquished my affairs. Better broken than uncertain. Still, it hurts knowing the ease of which you could walk away when, before, my departure was the end of the world. The repetition of my last words weekly, how I speak of the way you twist my stomach, and bruise my heart just displays vulnerability to your selfish lies. I probably should stop, but theres no thought between my head and my words, and at once, I believed if I just gave myself to you fully, then maybe you'd want me, or at least deal with me. Thats not the case. I collapse in your arms, I am a wave. I bring force, and my past influences, and I splash; I'm sorry: I know you hate other's problems. But what happens when that problem is you ? What do we do now ?