I don't know if you realize

But it hurts. It makes me feel worthless when you say these words. No-good. Useless. The list goes on. It's like I'm a waste of space. I'm not good at anything, I know, but when you remind me it makes me feel like I might as well not exist. What good am I for? Nothing you say, and yet you claim to care about me? Or do you? You never come right out and say it, because I should  just know. If only you did.

I didn't know that words could hurt more than physical pain. Because while the physical pain diminishes, your poison words that sting like a blade, linger. Sometimes forever, because I know you mean them. They say if you tell a person a lie over and over again, they'll start to believe it. And I'm beginning to. The constant lies I'm fed, they pick at my brain and embed themselves into it. They tell me, "This is who you are," again and again like a broken record. Eventually, it transforms into the truth. Your intricate yet simple lies inflict so much more pain than any knife could. Did you know?

I've come to the conclusion that if I hurt so much from uttered nonsense that otherwise would have no meaning if you didn't mean so much to me, then perhaps, I shouldn't do the same. For your sake. While I admire and praise you for your qualities, you cut me down and pick at my every flaw, every wrong that I've done, every mistake that I've made and as much as I want to do the same to show you just how it feels, I don't. I can't. I care far too much. But most of all I want you to realize on your own, without my help. I don't want you to realize the way I did. By suffering the way I did. And most of all, I don't want to be the reason for your suffering.

Although Jesus said do unto others as you would have them do unto you, no one really does. But I'll prove them wrong by treating you right, even if you don't do the same. So keep doing what you do best. Hit me as hard as you can. I wish you could see, but I know you can't.