I was happy

I was happy. For once I thought that someone actually loved me. I’m not upset because he didn’t. I upset because I deluded myself into thinking it was real, believing for once, saying those words and meaning them. Most of my confidence was wrapped in the comfort that I was lovable; all my worries in the possibility that I wasn’t. You asked me if I’m happy. The answer is no. I’ve slipped back to being the shut down girl from high school. I thought I had made so much progress, but apparently my house of cards was balanced on a single face and now that it’s gone, I’m back to being what I thought had been destroyed. No amount of gaiety or humor will lighten that. I am back to that cold little girl from high school, back to being a b*tch, back to hurting others before they hurt you. Back to not trusting anyone. In all my futures, I see me alone, no children, no family, nothing that can hurt me. No one can hurt something you love if you don’t love anything.