My body aches. And it hurts to sing.

How many times in the past have I promised myself that I would stop? About the same number of nights I spent crying myself to sleep. Why can't I ever just listen to myself. I'm constantly writing about being hurt. About fucking crying until I can't breathe, but I put myself through it again. I am his coin operated girl. It isn't the other way around. Oh yeah, I'll say I have a hold of myself and that I wanted this to happen. But what the hell do I know? I was fifteen. I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready. And here I stand. Here I wait. Aching inside and out. Throwing myself out of an open window at any chance I can get. I'm screaming inside. I am terrified that I won't ever stop. Why should I? Not even the most perfect guy in the world can take me away from him. Because HE'S the one I fell for. He's the one I gave my everything to. For what? Nothing. I wanted to grow up so bad. Well. I got it. And all I feel is helpless. Younger, crawling to my parents when I just didn't want to take it anymore. I think the first time I ever said he broke my heart was to my parents. Everyone else, eh he was just another fuck. No. He BROKE me. I'm not fixable. I'm all these bits and pieces. And no body knows what goes where. Not while he's away. And as the moon fades I just find myself wanting it to fade again. And again and again. Until the day comes where he's back. And I can just hug him and make everything better. I won't feel whole. I won't feel complete. I'll probably feel the same way. This pathetic mess I try to call moving on. But I'll feel secure when he's back. WHY. I don't know. I'll ask myself that everyday, as I wait for another letter from him. But I don't think I can cry over him anymore. My tear ducts, they hear "Carson?" and they're just too tired. I've poured my soul over to him. And he's just smirking, constructing the stage to make me do whatever he wants. And that's all it will ever be. Until then...