The ones that mean the most…

The ones that mean the most…

I guess I can’t tell you why I am this way. My walls are built higher than any fucking prison I’ve ever seen. I’m guarded; reserved when I need to be. We all have that piece of us that is always evident and we drag it around with us for a good portion of our lives, if not the whole thing. That inner feeling or sense that eats us up inside every second of the day.

 Mine is trust. I’ve learned that we are born alone and we will die alone. There ain’t no bunkbeds in caskets. This life is ours; our days are borrowed and our bodies are rented. The people you “trust” usually end up gone, and at the end of the day, they turn into who they said they’d never be. The ones that have said “I love you” never meant it. They never stayed around long enough to prove or show love. It’s an unattainable emotion. It’s something everyone knows but very few people experience for real. 

     She told me she loved me but she was really out to get me. She’s the fucking devil and she’s not happy unless everyone around her is suffering. Sociopathic, schizophrenic psycho. Never in my life have I met anyone like her; with those devil eyes and bad intentions. 

But they teach you something, these horrible people. They show you exactly who you should never be, and for that we need to be grateful.