i drive by the place we used to spend hours at, in the back of the car . up on that shitty hill behind my work.

i still feel the musty hands wrap tightly around my ill-ridden waist. teenage love they say. 

love is hooking up in the back of a Ford F-150 with Joji playing in the background. love is pretending to be infatuated when in reality they want you to get them off. that is all.

you flattered me. you flattered me so much it almost made me believe it. believe i was worthy of love. believe that men didn't just only talk to me or like me for my body. believe that i was enough with what i held in my mind and heart. believe that maybe not every man is shallow. 

quickly that changed when you started asking for more and more and i let it happen. you told me i love you brooke i really do. i didn't believe you then and i dont believe you ever did. you loved my ass. you loved the words i fed you. you loved the materialistic aspects of who i was as a person but you did not love me. and it's hard for me to believe that anyone ever will.

 constantly i hear talk about my body and yes it is nice sometimes but when that is all people compliment i feel so useless, so empty as dumb as that sounds. i never know if people actually like me or just want sex. i want to be seen as who i am on the inside but no one gets the chance to see that.