On my mind

I wish I knew who you were because you're always there. I've noticed that I liked to add a face and a name to this feeling that you are.
Right now you're blonde and honestly quite beautiful.
Seeing you makes me feel all that crap... pathetic, weak, physically incapable... mentally incapable... socially lacking... not beautiful. You know?
I wish I could say this in pretty words. And that I knew how to not use cliches...
I think I like stream of consciousness.... Can you tell?
Out loud I whine too much.
I like the way your body hunches- your back curving in an arch- as you take a hit. As you straighten, you let the smoke out slow... look out through it. Probably cause you miss her, the one who's in the only picture you own.
I like how you moved me, you touched me and put your arms around me.
I liked it because it was the one place I could feel weak and as if I was supposed to. But it hurt afterwards... knowing I just let you use me. Or think about using me... only to realize you didn't even want to.
I liked the way you got serious... searched my eyes even though they were barely open.
I don't like that you thought better of it... what you would have done. I don't like knowing that while I was there you were only thinking about her.
Do you even know me? That I was the one there?
I like how you put your head on my shoulder even after I pulled away. Like you needed me. Or maybe even wanted me.
I like how I could turn into your arm when I got scared and you turned toward me too, your body folding in, curving over... as if you would've protected me.
I don't know why I like you... for reminding me I'm weak. Pathetic. Unwanted.
When will I be strong?
Why do I like the pain?
When can I leave behind this... damage? The damage I put on myself.
I want to be strong.
I don't want to be knocked over, thrown against walls, have people worry about hurting me... because I'm less capable than average. To be humoured or filled with adoration for the childishness they see in me.
I wanted to be stronger than my spite, over the past, reminded of what I can do.
I write. At least to express myself.
I can bend over backwards and touch my tongue to my nose.
Sometimes I make people laugh or feel better.
I can make myself feel better and sometimes catch myself when I'm beginning to think negatively. I didn't use to be able to do that.
I have a decent sense of music and style. If I do say so myself.
I say no to the scissors. And I'm saying no to the voice that says yes. Right now.
I am loved.
I sleep alone everyday even though it breaks me a little knowing no ones there.
I will soon look at you and say I don't need you, and I understand you never meant to hurt me... and that you didn't really because you had no idea that I felt this way.
I will come to terms with the fact that you searched my eyes for her, and you looked for her trying to get to her, putting your head back down when you didn't find her coming back. When you found I couldn't be her.
I will learn not to be hurt by other people's pain in a way that brings out my own. Instead I will be hurt for them... Like I think I used to.
I will learn to love again... because I've learned hatred too easily... because I've learned to call upon it too easily and use it to push the good things out of my life.
I will wake up... without the sun. The blinds closed and in the darkness. It won't hurt me anymore.
I know I feel too deeply, especially when it hurts. But sometimes feeling deeply is the best thing about me.
I won't use pills, scissors, pain, anger, or hatred. That's the feeling that you are.... and you're on my mind.
But I've reminded myself that there are positive things on my mind too. I am stronger than this.