Leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you. Once again you were able to ruin a good night. Of me doing the very few things that make me feel good and level headed and I’m sitting here doing this bullshit. All about you wanting to see me the moment you need to, at your convenience, not when I, for too long, have begged for your text, call or touch. Just go away. You make me want to get high everyday you make me want to relapse and throw all the work I’ve put into being right and sound in my mind. You make me want to run my car into a tree or off a cliff. You make me loose the closeness I NEED with my friends, and my art and my freedom. You try and grab my wings and break them. You grab my wings and squeeze them in your cold hands until they break. You see me break and then you take that and use it as an advantage over me and to dismiss your words and actions because I’m then vulnerable. And need to be loved back together. Because in those moments I want to be loved back into a whole being again and so you take the pieces you want to fix and you do. You glue them back on me with some shitty ass dollar store glue that only holds so long as you don’t move it. And as long as I sit there as your human; your property, I get to keep the pieces you chose for me. The ones you picked out of all of me. The ones you want. And you mould them into what version you want them to be, which changes day to day. Then you leave and I’m looking around and I can’t feel me anymore. My fire is dimmed and dull and I’m tired. Like a train that’s gone across the country and only got a few stops. I then spend my whole day trying to fuel myself up again. And i get it. Every fucking time. You know why? Because you could stun me, you could make me pause because I’ve stupidly given that power to someone as hurt and weak as you. And that power belongs to no one, no man, no woman. But me. I own that power. And I’m taking it back. Because. Everything that you yell at me for and beat me into the ground for, are all my favorite things about myself. Those are my fire works. Those things are what makes me feel alive. Those things keep me straight. Clean. Sober. And content. Those things you drill into me as bad or inconvenient are the things that people will remember me by when I leave this world. Strangers that I spoke to one time and friends I’ve had for lifetimes upon lifetimes before this one, they all see me and they love those things about me almost as much as I do. Take your fucking hands off me and let me fly. You want to fly beside me. Then let’s fucking go. But if you grab them one more time in your cold hands and try and snap my God damned wings again I promise you will watch me fly so far away and it will kill you to watch me soar without you. Because I will soar more graciously then you could imagine. Make your fucking decision. Step the fuck up and see me for the amazing woman and person I am or back the fuck down and make room for my match, my person, my king, who was made to soar with me.