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Here’s the thing
That they don’t tell you
About being that heartbreaker.
The one all the poems
Are written about.
Although most of those
‘Players’ and ‘Heartbreakers’
Are probably just a bunch
Of assholes who wanted
To get to second base.
Few and far in between,
There are some
That aren’t.
Because when I was told,
And made to feel as though
The only worth I had
Was as many girls as
I could claim to have
‘Had’ at one point
Or another,
I dehumanized
Not only myself,
But them as well.
And at the age of 13,
I was so convinced
That my self worth
Was based on how
Many people I had
Seen naked.
And from 13 to 14,
I realized that moving
So quickly, was
Not needed.
That I could take my time,
And get to know someone,
Seemed to be a foreign concept.
And so I moved slowly,
Still slightly concerned,
That my magical number
Of people I’ve slept with
May stay at 1, 2, 3.
And from 14 to 15,
It suddenly became clear to me.
I was that asshole.
I cannot count the number
Of poems, photos, and feelings
Dedicated to how I’ve hurt
Her, and her, and her.
And right now,
After months to years
Of pushing it all down,
I can acknowledge it.
I fucked up.
And I am sorry,
To her, and her, and her,
And her, and her, and her,
And to every single one.
Because my self worth is more
Then the number of people
That I have ‘had’.
And your self worth,
Is so much higher
Than how I treated you.
And after months to years
Of blatantly ignoring
Every fucking word of your pain,
I have come to terms with
How badly I have fucked up.
And I would like to state,
That I am taking responsibility,
And that in the last two years,
I have matured enough to realize
Those mistakes cannot dictate
My future unless I, and only
I let them.
I am sorry,
But I am moving on.
I am that asshole, but we were both worth more than that. And I’ve grown up, and I am sorry for every fucking character you wasted on me. (via distressed—teens)
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