Winter Afternoons in Dilli

They're playing AM by the Arctic Monkeys in the next room and here I am, in bed, refusing to get out and say 'hi'.
What is the point? Everyone's just going to walk all over me, like they always do.

I can't believe I've let myself become this person. So lonely, so insecure, so broken. Like picking at a scab that hasn't healed, my wounds get opened and re-opened again. I don't know why. What am I doing wrong?
Am I not worthy of love and attention?
Why do I get treated like shit then?

People say that they've changed, changed for the better. But nothing ever changes, only time. I can't see into my future anymore. It's been so long since I last felt loved that I've forgotten what it feels like.

My life could have been all about the sex I had with A, while listening to the Arctic Monkeys and Bonobo and what not, but unfortunately, it isn't. It's only about the battlescars that he left behind. It's only a tragic tale of falling in love and having my heart broken, my sense of self taken away.

I can't remember the last time I had goosebumps on my skin when somebody touched me, ran their hands down my back. I can't remember the last time someone kissed me and saw straight into my soul. I can't remember. Why can't I remember? Has it really been that long?

I find myself becoming possessive and jealous, bitter and negative. This wasn't me. I guess time's changed me into a new person and unwillingly I'm just going with the flow.

Maybe I'm one of those people who'll end up alone no matter how hard I try. But it's okay, I'm trying to toughen my heart till it becomes a stone. I'm trying hard, very hard, to give up on the idea of love. Maybe it does exist, just that I probably will never find it. That is my curse.