I think I'm really self centered.
See, I never cry when I'm supposed to.
Only when it's about me.

When our dog died, I didn't cry.
My sister got mad at me.
She said I didn't care about Jelly.
But I did care when the character in my book died.
I cried about that.

I didn't cry when my grandpa died.
I hadn't seen him in years
But still.
I did cry when I was in trouble.
I felt sorry for myself.
My tear ducts worked then.

I didn't cry when I found out my friend was hurting herself.
I was really sad, but I didn't cry.
I had tears streaming down my cheeks when I cut myself.
It seemed a lot more sad then.

Whenever my mom or sister think about my grandparents dying
They cry.
Whenever something sad happens on a tv show
I cry.

I've pinched myself before
Trying to make myself cry
Because I thought I was supposed to.
It didn't work.

Just because I can't cry doesn't mean I don't care.
Or does it?

One of my favorite books is Gone With The Wind
I read it when I was younger and liked to imagine I was like Scarlett
She was decisive, sassy, bossy; nothing could hurt her
I thought I needed a man similar to Rhett Butler
Someone who was authoritative.
Someone who could "put me in my place"
I thought of myself as indestructible
No one could actually hurt me

But they can.
I've realized I'm just as fragile as anyone else
Maybe even more so
Words can hurt me
And they do

I don't need someone who is mean to me
Or tells me what to do
I'm not indestructible
So I don't need someone to destruct me

It took me growing up to realize
I'm just a little girl

Trust is really important.
There are people you trust
And there are people who trust you.
And then there are people you trust who don't trust you.

Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of reasons not to trust me.
There are some situations where I probably did do it.
But this isn't one of them.
I didn't ******* do it.
But my family thinks I did.

"Just admit you did it." they say.
"Just give it back."
"Your life is going to be ruined." They tell me.
"We're going to take everything away."

They've made their decision.  
They're still deciding all the punishments.
There is just one thing they forgot to consider.
What if I didn't do it?

You called me a *****?
How ironic.

You called me a *****?
When the farthest I've gone was with you.

You called me a *****?
When you were the one in a relationship?

Maybe I am a *****.
But what would that make you?

He loved her.
He loved her so much his love overflowed onto other women.
He cared about her.
That's why he was so protective.
That's why he got angry when she talked to other men.
He was passionate about her.
It's only natural for passion to turn into anger sometimes.
It's only natural for anger to become physical.
He thought she was beautiful.
Which was the reason he kissed her and ****** her.
Even when she didn't want him to.
He wanted her to be happy.
She couldn't possibly be happy without him.
So he made sure she didn't leave.
He missed her.
So he visited her grave.
But that got tiresome.
So he found someone else to love.