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“How does that make me feel?”

It makes me feel like I wish love didn’t exist sometimes.
That there were no fairy tales to make me dream of happy endings and true love.
That prince charming actually existed.

I constantly tell myself maybe there actually is.
Maybe fairy tales are fairy tales because they actually happened at some point in time.

But truth is,

Nobody is perfect.

Movies, television shows, songs too.
They lie to me.

They make me feel hopeless.
Shamed for even thinking that it was possible that I would find somebody.

Who actually loves me.


Not my a**, or my breasts.
Or because I’m single and you need to “release” tension.



And then you take out your anger and frustration on my face,
Or my arms,
Or Stomach,
My entire being,
Inside and out.

So since you must ask “How does that make me feel?”

I feel







Broken





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