Congrats.

 I stand there blinking away as my rage betrays me. Screaming to my memory to have mercy and let me forget. But he pulls up a chair enjoying the sight of my never ending pile of tissues. And I smell the burnt hair and taste the sweet sweet flavor of revenge. Seeking to aim the control that had once fallen through my fingers. Hell, I've been through this too many times before. You're bringing me down. Now I'm on my knees. Out here in the cold. With my own hands to hold. 

And he forces me to hug him. I grit my teeth together while pleading with God to have him let go this time. 

And I run. And run. To those stars that promise me a sweet welcome with hope and love. 

And I throw away the thought of you and you begging me not to stop when you're so close. And hate myself even more than before. And I hate you too. I hate that with two words you still have the power to send my tears streaming down my already stained cheek bones. And I hate you because of it. And feel helpless against your words that sent me into a high that I never wanted to slip out from.

I take the smell of your breath that my neck use to yearn for and send it shooting down to the ground. And I take my obsession with that crease in your shoulder and shove it down your throat. 

And I walk away. Even if I hate myself even more with every step I take away from you. 

Damn it, kid. 

Or should I rather say congrats. 

You just made me feel smaller than you ever have before.

Oh wait, that's possible?

Sure as hell is.

Remember my smile when you blink the night away trying to fall asleep.

And remember the way you stomped my self worth underneath your filthy futsol shoes. 

And with every look at that chaired hair on your knee, remember the way my fingers felt when I traced those scars. 

Remember manipulation is a two way streak my dear.