I wear my scars like souvenirs that I shouldn’t be holding onto as I have.

I’ve loved people with everything I’ve had in me, only to give it my all and leave myself with nothing.

I hold onto the past like it’s a catchy tune on repeat but I keep pushing replay.

And I think about old loves who have moved on. I look at myself still hung up over it.

Like it’s my fault for the love they couldn’t give me.

Like it’s my best that was never good enough.

I never pin heartbreak on those who deserve its blame.

I never say it was them who was flawed or unworthy of all I had to give.

Instead, I look at my reflection analyzing a list of shortcomings.

The blame gets placed on things I can’t change about myself.

I keep trying to be what they want and need only to realize every time I change I lose myself more in the process.

I lose myself trying to keep people who aren’t mine.

I lose myself clinging to the past.

I look at the people they love and the happy relationships they find themselves in and I wonder what she has that I didn’t.

Because as they go to bed together I’m laying in a bed too big for one clinging to a sweatshirt I should have thrown out by now.

The words what if play in my mind and I know I shouldn’t be saying those things.

The pictures on my phone feel like yesterday. And I know I should delete them but I can’t seem to. I refuse to look at the calendar and accept how much time has passed.

I’ve gotten love once right and I don’t know how I did it?

I don’t know to mimic such a thing.

Sometimes I wonder if pain is all I’ll ever know.

Sometimes I wonder if I like it.

I like knowing when everyone leaves at least pain I can rely on.

Of the many inconsistent things in my life pain isn’t one of them.

And people ask about sadness and how I just know.

They thank me for feeling things so deeply.

But it’s happiness that is that state so unfamiliar.

I float through the motions painfully content.

Knowing there’s more out there.

Knowing there’s something I’m missing. Or rather someone.

I keep thinking I met him and he’s already gone.

But what if I haven’t?

What if I’m one strange encounter away from someone teaching me this pain I’ve held onto for so long isn’t mine to harbor?

I look forward to the day I release it from my grip and stop holding on so tightly to everything I should let go of.

I look forward to the day someone looks at me with confidence in their eyes like they’ve spent their whole life trying to find me too.