Broken Pieces Girls

I don't mind if you go blind. I wouldn't mind if your hands fall off at the wrists, it's no less than you deserve. 

I don't mind if you got hit by a car - what does that say about me and what you enacted on me? I actually quite enjoy the visual of you being hit by a car - I'm enjoying it right now. And again, this malice didn't start with me; I'm smart enough to know that and healed enough to name it. I felt malice from you before I could make any sense of why I would be feeling that from someone giving me attention. Someone who quote "liked me."

I think this is why so many women circle and circle around writing their stories but never actually do. It's shocking how some stories take us right back to our most vulnerable, no matter how wise we get, how much we heal, how much we come to understand when we're older. We spend decades of our lives circling these same stories - suffering in the great wide open and manifesting conditions like neon signs entering rooms before we do, flashing: she's broken here. She's a girl in a million pieces and every time you don't look, or look but don't see, or see but don't care, you tell her: you deserve to be in pieces and she believes you. You splinter off another shard of her and hold it up so that's the reflection of herself that she sees. 

You're fucking in love with broken pieces girls - they're so much more accessible to you. You create the problem because all your distorted reflections through her pieces makes you feel good about yourself. You did that. I was your broken pieces girl. You know it and I know it. That's why I don't mind if you lose your hands or go blind. In fact, I have a shard you can borrow to make that happen.

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