'Cuz I have hella feelings for you. You're too good for me. I'm only a fool for you. But I don't fucking care at all. Cuz I'm so fucking scared.'
Bruises all up and down his arms.
Grip marks from wherever someone kept him in his place.
Scratches and cuts all down his left arm.
I knew I had to go back and do something. I just left him by himself.
What if where he got the bruises were from home?
What if he did that himself? I canceled on my friend Taylor from picking me up from school and walked back inside.

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Growing up my parents didn't want to deal with my emotions. If I cried they walked away.
If I got hurt they turned away.
They didn't want to have me bring them down with my anxiety attacks. They didn't even care when I didn't talk to them for 3 days after I ran away from home.
They didn't even notice the purple coloured marks up my thighs and arms.
I'm used to feeling that because this happens to me; I deserve it and I don't deserve anyone to help me or make me happy. Once you've put yourself in that mindset, it's incredibly hard to come out of it all by yourself.
I used to be alone until he showed up...
I was so distracted about figuring him out that I didn't have time to stay with my ways. I hoped I could help him like he helped me, just with one difference, he knows that I want to help him..