So this one is going to be a two 'fer. A double release. Because as I was going through all of these, I realized that two of the songs I put my own words to, came from one writing of mine. So I'll give you both. These two writings are set one, to My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys, and two, The Great War, both by Taylor Swift.

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I dont have a bad guy in my story, I am the bad guy. Even the people that show up as bad guys in my life, are there because I put them there. I allowed them to stay. To treat me in a way that I had always been used to, even if it was bad. It was familiar. Sage but ubsafe. Sge but permanently scarring. Cutting open, a new scar the longer they stay, taking it longer to heal. So I’m not mad at this person or that. I’m mad at myself. I dont ask how they could treat me that way, I ask why I let them treat me that way for so long. I allowed empathy for thebad guy to replace common sense. I had no common sense, it was gaslit out of me. Trained ouur of me. Tortured out of me. Silently take from me. Building it back brick by crick is painful. The mortar is my tears laced with the stain of her memory. So painfully aware but blind to the nose on my face. ANother mask tried on, another hat worn, but neither fit. And my choices are the castl crumblin in someone elses story. The princess was really a witch, a mad woman, dancing between personas, the cracks of light burning her skiing but the darkness fixingit again. Her darkness spread to others She didnt mean it. She didn’t want it. Their pain was heer pain, a weight that kept her at the bottom of the well. Clinging to the smooth sides, grasping for the rope to pull herself up. Another burn, more darkness. You want me to pay forever, and I sometimes think you’re right. I’ll wear the A but then remember I am the villain and I get to choose. The insecurity fades to pain fades to scabs fade to scars. The sting of shame can sometimes remain, buit I know how to treat the burn now. Your words once like acid, peeling off the raw layers, now hollow and echoing in the chamber of our lost dreams. It wasn’t all bad, you see. But not right for me. It killed me quietly and I’m so sorry. But I’m moving on. Leaving you the way I should’ve left you when I found you. Its not my fault you needed me to be your light. I truly wish you success, but thats where our story ends. You loved me, I thought I loved you, now we’re through, and though I was blue for a bit, I do admit, you showed me I was right. Our monsters played well together but now I’m ready to stop hiding. Ripping me in tow, these monsters still spew their righteous bidding, gleefully lovingly watching me decay. But I trained these monsters, so now they;re tame, only keeping me in check when it starts to feel the same. I’ll let you keep the hate, I’ll take the uncertainty, and find the ting I’ve always been looking for, me.