You Don't Own Me... No! No! No!

You thought that you ruined me. stopped me. changed me. You thought your confusion, manipulation, and projected insecurities altered me, and my state of reality. you blended both overbearing love with fatal attraction, making you the perfect fusion of both unrealistic demands, and the need to sabotage who you admired me to be -before you knew just how extreme my aura could be. and for a while I thought so too. I thought you reversed the greatness that was instilled in me, and for some time I was afraid, and what was even more damaging, was the fact that I was afraid to admit this. I was scared to admit this to myself. and this is when I stopped creating. stopped believing that I had stories to tell. I couldn't even create one story. one single story. your negativity was heavy, and even though you showed me how your mind worked, and how much peace you weren't allowing yourself to live within -your cynicism wasn't meant to pierce me indefinitely into severing what I was always meant to do. It wasn't meant to stop me, as much as you tried to make it seem. I thought time would've driven your madness back to where it came from, but I wasn't acknowledging the unhealed parts of myself that you were so disgustingly tapping into -the wounds you pried into without my permission . the cuts and bruises, I was healing, but was also allowing others to come around and reignite. to cut into. cut in two.
I thought you imprinted onto me, like in those silly but addicting vampire and werewolf movies. I unknowingly considered you to be the wolf, and me to be the premature little girl in the woods on the night of a full moon. Silly me, right? I, in a way, or in all ways made myself the victim, and I made it last longer than it needed to be done. you were meant to teach me. to remind me that I am a butterfly, and although dust mites may come around saying that they admire me, and my brightful colors, dust mites are still dust mites. flakes of dust looking to dirty everything up -while purposely causing allergic reactions along the way -even if their way is predicitable and hobbling. And after leaving you, I thought I had closed off that connection, that door you were still shouting behind. I didn't ask for saving, because I didn't think that I needed it. I thought walking away and aborting mission saved me.I couldn't see what I was doing though, and what was really happening here, and there, and everywhere in between( because you knew just how much time I enjoyed hanging out in between worlds). I just got annoyed everytime I seen your car, and your stupid little hat, that never did a good job at shielding that stupid little face. A face that never had the potential to shock the world, because dead things are more frightening than worshipped. and oh, how you wanted to be worshipped, and how much you hated it when I was in my natural element. being worshipped for who I am, and who I was still becoming alongside the crap you were trying to shove down my throat. You were trying to block my throat chakra, and I was letting you. I was letting you dim my light, because your disturbances were too outlandish to reason with. To live past those who choose not to live is to endure so endure proudly! xoxo The ItGirl who's choosing to promote self-healing through cutting those last remaining cords others try to desperately glue onto you. Their obsession with clinging onto you is amateur at best, remember you've got this -totally and fully!!!!

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