I was too nice of a person. That’s what it was. The nice side of the coin. The good cop. The road walked over more.
Why did people always walk all over me? Did I have push over tattooed on my forehead? Was I just an easier target? Did others thrive on making themselves feel better by making me feel worse?
I was in a state of pure and utter confusion.
Confusion as to why, someone would do this to another person.
Why would you do it?
I mean you really had to hate someone so strongly and think that their life was oh so meaningless that you could or even would do that.
I felt betrayed, a part of me was taken away.
Trust had always been a fragile passenger, but not it was well and truly broken.
I stood there as the rain poured down on me. I didn’t care that I was soaked, I didn’t care that all my makeup had washed away and my hair was a limp lifeless blob.
All I cared about, was that my life had been shattered, twisted, snapped in two pieces that would never glue back together.
Steam began to rise as the cold droplets battered against me. Yet still I would not move. My eyes matched the sky as the tears continued to pour.
And I continued to stand there.