Dear Victoria,

With the tears running down my face looking at my photos I'm blind.
My eye bags have deepened so much it has tainted my skin. 
I can't remember the way I'm smiling so deeply in this photo.  
I can only think of the pain she has given me to carry.
She makes it so easy for me to cry.
To worry over the things that I never cared about.
Becoming hypersensitive to her syllables.  
Wishing that I could go back in time.
To believe things when it was much simpler, and even then It was my ignorance protecting me.  
Protecting me from the fact that the Perfection I lived up to my whole life doesn't exist.  
I'm destined to repeat this agony of failing and its consequences.  
It hurts so much that it numbs me.  
It hurts so much that my brain can't comprehend it.  
I only vomit up these thoughts crying for help.  
Kneeling, begging that you who made me like this showed some mercy.  
Although the sound of my thoughts is washed away by your silence leaving me all alone.  
Like always.  
It's easy for someone to turn a blind eye and justify what they do to make themselves feel better.
But maybe with my tears blinding me, I'm the same.  
That is my worst nightmare.  
I need to wait till my eyes dry up for me to see again.  
What is the difference between you and I though?  
We both wear a mask, covering up our faults.  
Painting our faces with a facade.  
Yet if we are so alike why is it that you tear mine off and ridicule me.  
Why do you punish me if we are the same?  
You've done this so much that my makeup wears off on its own.  
Eroding from the heat scorching behind my skin fueled by my self-loathing.  
Wishing I could just handle the heat without needing anyone's help.  
To drown out everything yet doing so would only hurt me.  
I'm just stuck in this loop that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.  
The consisting losing I have no one to blame.  
You can kick me down as many times as you please.  
I can't blame you.  
For this, I hate myself too.  
I'll stand up to it and accept being the last place.  
I have to do this for myself if I'm ever going to run away from my problem.  
Because facing it head-on in my tombstone at the finish line.  
I wish I had known this as a child without living in this fantasy that you cared for me.  
I would've been prepared sooner.  
But I guess this is better because now I know.  
And before I know it the tears have dried up on the picture distorting my memory of innocence and joy. Knowing that it isn't the same anymore.