At 21 I am not who you want me to be. I am who I want to be.
I hate that my one and only experience with “love” was ruined years ago, months ago, weeks ago, days ago.
I sit here and pretend like it doesn’t bother me as much as it used to, but the reality is that it bothers me more. It bothers me because I was the fool that kept letting you back in, time and time again. Only to get fucked over time and time again.
I may have a hand in it with certain parts of my personality or attitude. But that shouldn’t matter, you should have taken me as I am, because there’s far worse than me.
It’s whatever because I am strong enough to move on. I’ve done it every other time, alone, without any influence or guidance.
This time will be no different.