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Life Of A Part-Time Mermaid

"when you threw me to the wolves that night,
did you think they’d find me easy to swallow?
you’ve loved me more than the others; you know i claw and scream on the way down.

of course i bit back. i learned to love the moon.
i wore wolf skins as easily as my own.
i growled at death and watched him run.

please know that if you feel the hair rise on the back
of your neck, sense a shadow in the bathroom
mirror, find eyes in the thick of night, i am here.

i do not hunger after you.
i imagine you’ll taste exactly as i remember: sour, chalky, gritty. dirt under my nails.
i will be bored of this form soon.

i suggest next time, you try feeding me to dragons. — A STUDY IN SURVIVAL | m.c."

Me
I've been broken, I've loved and I've been hurt. A best friend, a hard worker, a loyal lover. I am simply human.

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Perfectly Destroyed
Monday, December 22, 2014 @ 11:34 PM
0 comments!

Part of me wonders if you're a control freak like me. If you can't breathe when the unexpected happens, and if you drink to struggle with the unexpected. I wonder if you stuff everything down because you're convinced it's easier to be silent than to say what's wrong and face someone who may not care.
The not so funny thing that happens with people who come from previously abusive in some form situations is that they're used to being silent. It's how they learned to deal with problems, it's how they learned that no one cares if they speak up, or they've told themselves so many times that no one does that they automatically assume it's true. I wonder if that mold fits you.

I wonder what you were like before you became broken, and what broke you. Broken isn't a bad term, we're all a little broken. I've determined if you're not fucked up in some way, there's a huge chance I won't even bond with you on even a friendship level.

I wonder if it was a she, or a friend or a parent. But I feel like it's a she. It's usually a chosen sex preference for cases like these. Sometimes I wish I could take a sledgehammer to your walls. Not a chisel and slowly dig away at them. Nope. A full blown sledgehammer. Bam. If I thought it'd help you, I'd tell you about my ex. I'd hope something would click in you and you'd see that I'm not going to fuck you over. Just like I promised I wouldn't that day in your bed. I'd tell you about the boy who taught me to apologize for everything because it's always my fault. About the boy who taught me that no matter what I do I'm not good enough. I'd tell you about the boy who made it so that songs make bile rise up into my throat and who reinforced that I can't be trapped or I'll freak out. If I thought it would help you I'd tell you about the monster who made me afraid to trust anyone again.

If I didn't think you'd bolt I'd sit on the kitchen counter and tell you "Welp. I won't trust anyone and you won't get close to anyone, so I guess it looks like we're going to have to help each other with those" but I'm convinced you'd run. If I knew what broke you I'd try to fix it, because that's what I do.

A long time ago I loved a boy who didn't love me back. He wasn't the same boy as the monster, but he made promises. Promises he couldn't keep. Promises he wouldn't keep. And sometimes that does as much damage as the monsters who only promise to hurt you. Did she promise you things and bail like he did? Did she convince you that you two had the world before she put the knife in your back? Because I know how that feels too. I know how it feels to put all of your time and energy into someone who considers you a consolation prize. The consolation prize you hit when you knock one bottle over at the carnival. The teddy bear you get for just trying. The one with the torn ear and the derpy face. I know how that makes you want to keep everyone away from you too. Because you cared so much and you're afraid you can't put the pieces back together again after they made sure some of the parts were mushy and bruised.

That's sort of the funny thing about me. I'm really good at understanding why people won't get close to people. I'm really good at loving people when they can't love themselves. I'm good at putting my all into things, and I'm good at getting hurt. I just wish you'd let me be those things for you. 

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