here's to silence

"I was on my way home. I couldn't stop myself," he said.

"What?"

"From crying."

"Why?" He asked. They asked.

"Because in spite of my attempts to look okay, to be fine, I'm hurting. I'm hurting because I was left and I wasn't given a chance, probably never had one to begin with, to show what I feel - and what I feel is strong and real.

Because I'm confused. I no longer know what to believe in, which is real and which isn't. I don't know if I was loved or cared for, or I was just a victim of a dark twisted game, a need to give affection, then swiftly take it back.

Because I feel like I'm too nice to be messed with, or maybe it is what should be blamed - my blind faith in the good.

Because in spite of it all, I still care.

I'm trying my best to love myself more but I feel like my heart's been run dried, and my eyes, they look tired and almost lifeless...

if not for the tears."