Broken.

I felt alone.

More alone than I have ever felt in my entire life.

I had loved.

Loved someone who, for pure selfish reasons, "loved" me.

Someone who saw a naive girl and decided she was an easy target.

Someone who I had thought I could trust.

But you never know someone's true intentions until it's too late,

and you're hurt.

More hurt than ever before.

More scared,

and confused,

and upset than you have ever been.

 

I didn't feel whole anymore,

because I wasn't.

A part of me was gone

and I did everything I could to try and fill the void.

But after you feel like this,

it's a hard feeling to get rid of.

You sit home alone at night

contemplating the reasons why it might have happened.

and wondering why you're even here,

and if you can continue on,

and if you'll ever be ok again.

 

So there I was,

alone,

and scared,

and broken.

 

And two years later,

I'm still alone.

I'm still scared.

I'm still broken.

I'm still searching for something to fill the void.

Still wondering if I'll be ok.

Still hoping there is something better to come.