Anne Frank was my ancestor. (This is a lie, too. Just. Like. Yours.)

you never read this, anyway.
I ask you to.
I bribe you to.
You say you care.
where?
when?
how?
Is your version of caring pain?
Is your version of caring lying?
Is your version of caring doing everything possible not to make me happy?

You told me that you would do anything for me.
You told me you would die for me.
When I call you out, you don't remember.
Why won't you remember me?
Do you remember what we've been through?
Do you remember how we've grown?
Where's your memory now?
Lost inside someone who doesn't know you like I do.
Lost to a someone who can be enough for you, like i'm unable to be.

You think I hate you. You cry because you think I hurt.
You cannot possibly fathom what you have done to me.
I am but a shred of what i know is right.
All I am is lost to someone who held on to integrity.
I finally realized that if someone like you can never accept someone like me,
Then all I am is lost.
Because you lie to keep me. You hurt to keep me. But for what?
For your own selfish gain.

You told me I'm not enough. You told me I'll never be enough.
You told me you love me.
Why can't the people you love be enough for you?

Why would you lie to someone you care about?
The sadness. You created. The shame. You created. The anger. You created.

I cry because i know you've hurt me.
I hurt because I have nothing left to feel.