The phrase “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” is misleading af.
Your trauma doesn’t get the credit for making you stronger.
You were the one who made the decision to recover and put the work in to get there. You were the one who rose from your own ashes. You were the one who put yourself back together again like smashed pottery repaired with veins of gold. You are the flowers that sprouted through the cracks in the tarmac. You stuck around and you fought and you learned and you grew.
The thing that nearly killed you shouldn’t get the credit for making you stronger - you did that.
you’re so lucky. lucky that i didn’t unleash the sinister things under my skin when you touched me. lucky i didn’t burn you alive with what is coursing through my veins. lucky that i wasn’t as vicious and wicked as i am now. but one day your luck will run out.
you look at me and see a lamb. you mistake the baring of my teeth as laughter, the deadness in my eyes as tiredness, the sharpness of my nails as femininity. if you’d look closer you’d see a wolf wrapped in wool and silk and pearls. but don’t for a second thinks that makes me any less intelligent, powerful, angry. any less of a threat.
Question: you’re fucking disgusting. you’ve continuously hurt people and say around expecting pity because people don’t like you anymore. that’s what happens when you fucking cheat you bastard. that’s what happens when you’re emotionally abusive and manipulative. that’s what happens when you decide that one fucking person you barely know is more important than how everyone else feels. i hope you enjoy this relationship bc it won’t last. and i won’t be there to comfort you. i’m going to watch it fall apart
Answer:
rage lives inside my belly like a worm and it keeps on saying let me out let me out i will show them the face of your hurts and it will haunt them in their sleep.
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