romantic homicide

i suppose the romantic in me never actually left, but adapted.

was i really so awful that no one could find it in themselves to love me?

ever?

did i deserve to be treated in such a way by them?

i'm sad for the younger me who knows nothing of love and to be touched.

who felt she didn’t even need to care, and would always remain alone.

she stuffed her hair into ponytails until pieces departed. 

slipped into baggy clothes until they fit her perfectly.

stopped starving herself and engorged.

who cried in the bathroom at lunch until she found a room with a lonely piano.

the only justice done in that aspect of my life was that they let me have that one room.

but, recently, i’ve found myself back there.

i’ve even convinced myself into thinking i could still find someone.

only to find disappointment from those around me.

i remember all the heartbreaks, even if i pretend i don’t.

how i was laughed at.

their reactions to me.

i can’t help but continue with my earlier questions.

why?

my last calls for help were barely recognizable.

love may be gone, but hope still pangs in my chest.

even if i don’t believe it, i didn’t deserve that.

but, do i deserve the love i crave?