Privacy.

Poem about how I lost what was the most important thing in the world. Privacy.

When I was little I always thought being in a relationship meant giving up my privacy.

To be fair I didn't have much of it as a child since the only private thing I had was my body.

As I grew I realized even that had to be given up.

I had no privacy.

I felt cameras following me.

In my house, my house that I was supposed to feel safe in.

My room, the place where I could hide from everyone.

In the shower, the one place where I had to be exposed.

Cameras were everywhere, the walls, the roof, the chairs, the beds, the floors.

I could never take then down because once I put them up, I forgot where I put them.

Due to dark paths I craved what I thought was love.

Men in my DM's saying I looked pretty, I was their pretty little girl.

They knew how old I was.

I could only keep them by loosing my privacy.

Photos turned into videos, videos turned into calls.

I lost my privacy just for the text.

"You're so beautiful. I love you."

I thought being inlove was when you got a reaction from compliments.

Everytime I got the text I felt butterflies that quickly died once I saw it was from a 50 year old man.

I always imagined it was someone else telling me these things.

Who did I imagine?

I didn't ever have a clear image of who I imagined and I never heard their voice.

It went from a quick way to feel something to a feeling I had to chase, an addiction.

I wanted something real.

I would throw myself around to anyone who seemed to have any little interest in me.

You can hold my hand, I'll kiss you there, and you'll tell me those sweet words.

I always imagined it was someone else with me.

Who did I imagine?

As time passed I realized how bad it was for me and the others who I played for the rush of blood.

Yet I still did it out of impluse.

"I like you."

The words were close enough and I longed to hear the sweet honey melted words.

I learnt that kids said passed the word love around like nothing

Adults did the same.

But teens didn't.

"I like you."

Was all I ever heard and it didn't satisfy me yet I thought I had to work for those words.

Hypersexualising yourself.

When you sexualise yourself more than your standard amount.

I thought it would work.

It worked for old men.

I tried and if it didn't get my rush in the first week or so, I'd end it.

I was always bad commitment and in the end of elementary and the beginning of middle school it was shown.

I wanted the sweet anonymous figure to come back to me and give me the feels I prayed for.

Who did I imagine?

Author's Note

Ignore any grammer problems 😅