In that epically terrible sci-fi thriller, Flash Gordon, with the golden chords of queen supporting it, the movie ended with Ming dying and his body disappearing. his ring lay on the floor. "THE END" appeared on the screen. A moment passed before a large question mark appeared after the word "end". THE END?
I know the feeling.
Music man left me this week. After eleven months. I loved him. I was hoping to spend the rest of my life with him. But a month and a half ago he stopped trying. And so of course he began to distance himself. And then he told me he didn't love me anymore.
And then he told me he didn't love me anymore.
I love him. I'll never stop loving him entirely. And the more we live our separated life, the more I have trouble believing that he doesn't love me. But even if that's true, and he does try to come back, he'll have had to change as a person.
Love isn't always a spark you can feel. Sometimes it's an action. You may not feel it at the moment. But it is still there. And you should work at it. Because it is worth it. Unless there are truly problems with the relationship. Like domestic violence or arguing all the time.
We had a perfect relationship until he dived into depression. He stopped trying to love me. And so it's over. I miss him so much. We still live together in our beautiful home, and I still have to miss him. I sometimes lie in his bed while he's at work just so I can smell his scent on the pillows.
He was supposed to love me forever.
Even if he wanted to get back together with me, I would have to hold back, to see that he understands what love is, to see that he's serious. And that would be just miserable. Waiting to see if he changed. What if he didn't? What if he never even steps up to the task? What if he never loves me again.
That's what I have to expect. That he will not be back. And I will be alone for a long time. And that somehow I will survive. And will be able to bear it when he falls in love with another. And marries another. And has a beautiful family with somebody. Somehow.
Or will I?
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Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
the hardest I ever hit, the most I've ever loved
Music man is everything to me. I love him deeply. I'm excited to move in with him this week. But tonight he made me really upset.
Suicide. Is. Despicable.
Even if it's just a thought.
It was between the hours of midnight and 2 am. The two hours of a day when music man is occasionally taken with horrible moods. Most of our few arguments have taken place during this time. And this time he was talking about death. His death.
Naturally I was already upset.
Then he tells me how, even while we've been dating, he's considered suicide. I began weeping. Miserable, pathetic sounding sobs, gasps and sniffles. Words couldn't say how upset I was.
So I told him how that made me feel in the only way that could possibly conduct my truest feelings.
I slapped him harder than I've ever imagined slapping anyone. I slapped him so hard that he didn't even truly feel it for the first five minutes.
But he was angry right after. I'd never seen him so angry. I'd simply turned away and continued to cry. But after he got over the initial shock he grabbed me, sort of restrained me, and said something like "but you have to know what I mean" or "but you know how it feels" or something like that. And then he snapped out of it, and we started talking calmly for a few minutes.
And then apparently the true pain of the slap hit him, and we had to go inside and get him some ice. (we were outside when this happened)
Aaaand he didn't remember any of it previous to the pain, for a while. Go me. My slaps cause amnesia. Or maybe that was a black-out caused by his shear rage. But see, I slapped him because I love him, and, although I knew he didn't want to hear it so I didn't say, if he killed himself my world would end.
He has issues. Sure. Everybody does. I still love him. Even when he gets angry, my greatest fear is that he'll leave me. That would break my heart. I don't like the idea of living without him.
Even if he does leave me, I would never want him to leave me like that. I'd like to know that he's out there in the world somewhere. Living. Because his life is so beautiful to me.
Suicide. Is. Despicable.
Even if it's just a thought.
It was between the hours of midnight and 2 am. The two hours of a day when music man is occasionally taken with horrible moods. Most of our few arguments have taken place during this time. And this time he was talking about death. His death.
Naturally I was already upset.
Then he tells me how, even while we've been dating, he's considered suicide. I began weeping. Miserable, pathetic sounding sobs, gasps and sniffles. Words couldn't say how upset I was.
So I told him how that made me feel in the only way that could possibly conduct my truest feelings.
I slapped him harder than I've ever imagined slapping anyone. I slapped him so hard that he didn't even truly feel it for the first five minutes.
But he was angry right after. I'd never seen him so angry. I'd simply turned away and continued to cry. But after he got over the initial shock he grabbed me, sort of restrained me, and said something like "but you have to know what I mean" or "but you know how it feels" or something like that. And then he snapped out of it, and we started talking calmly for a few minutes.
And then apparently the true pain of the slap hit him, and we had to go inside and get him some ice. (we were outside when this happened)
Aaaand he didn't remember any of it previous to the pain, for a while. Go me. My slaps cause amnesia. Or maybe that was a black-out caused by his shear rage. But see, I slapped him because I love him, and, although I knew he didn't want to hear it so I didn't say, if he killed himself my world would end.
He has issues. Sure. Everybody does. I still love him. Even when he gets angry, my greatest fear is that he'll leave me. That would break my heart. I don't like the idea of living without him.
Even if he does leave me, I would never want him to leave me like that. I'd like to know that he's out there in the world somewhere. Living. Because his life is so beautiful to me.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Of note:
Also, bedbugs are the ultimate evil in this world. They're like mosquitos. But ninjas. That live in your bed. And come out at night to drink your blood. And leave irritating, itchy welts. They're what happens when a ninja goes vampire. Scary, isn't it?
And so life goes on
... In the best way possible.
I found several of my spiral notebooks the other night while looking through my things. They chronicle my search for love, beginning with a tall, nerdy man I met online whom just happened to go to the same small high school.
I made an account on okcupid.com on my twentieth birthday. I was tired of being alone. Not long after, I met someone that was a brother of a guy I had graduated with. I put all sorts of hopes and dreams into him, but to no avail.
He lead me on until he found something better. Not on purpose. He wasn't intentionally a jerk. He was just an idiot. There's lots of men like that. It's no surprise I ran into one right off the boat.
There was never even so much as a kiss. He hugged me once. And introduced me to several good bands and firefly. AND doctor horrible's sing along blog. So he served several good purposes.
After that came goth guy.
And then "good" guy.
And then goth guy again.
We know how that all went. Gad, men.
It was so weird to see them, all the stories with my hopes and dreams and different guys' names printed all over them. And there wasn't a single page about the most important one.
Music man is my world.
I accidentally moved in with him. I kept staying the night so I'd bring clothes and things. And then eventually I just stopped going home. I think that's as natural as it gets. And now we're going to make it official. We're going to rent a condo.
A place of our own where I don't have to share him with his room mates and I can keep a clean kitchen, and we can choose the furniture. And there's no toddler. And there's no tiny, yappy dog. And the irritating room mate that drinks too much won't talk his head off the minute he gets home. I'll kill it. Er. I'll move out. Into a condo all our own. yeahhh.
My parents are buying a condo. They're gonna rent it out to us. The living room is big enough to put a billiards table in. Aw, hell yeah. We gotta buy us a billiards table.
I found several of my spiral notebooks the other night while looking through my things. They chronicle my search for love, beginning with a tall, nerdy man I met online whom just happened to go to the same small high school.
I made an account on okcupid.com on my twentieth birthday. I was tired of being alone. Not long after, I met someone that was a brother of a guy I had graduated with. I put all sorts of hopes and dreams into him, but to no avail.
He lead me on until he found something better. Not on purpose. He wasn't intentionally a jerk. He was just an idiot. There's lots of men like that. It's no surprise I ran into one right off the boat.
There was never even so much as a kiss. He hugged me once. And introduced me to several good bands and firefly. AND doctor horrible's sing along blog. So he served several good purposes.
After that came goth guy.
And then "good" guy.
And then goth guy again.
We know how that all went. Gad, men.
It was so weird to see them, all the stories with my hopes and dreams and different guys' names printed all over them. And there wasn't a single page about the most important one.
Music man is my world.
I accidentally moved in with him. I kept staying the night so I'd bring clothes and things. And then eventually I just stopped going home. I think that's as natural as it gets. And now we're going to make it official. We're going to rent a condo.
A place of our own where I don't have to share him with his room mates and I can keep a clean kitchen, and we can choose the furniture. And there's no toddler. And there's no tiny, yappy dog. And the irritating room mate that drinks too much won't talk his head off the minute he gets home. I'll kill it. Er. I'll move out. Into a condo all our own. yeahhh.
My parents are buying a condo. They're gonna rent it out to us. The living room is big enough to put a billiards table in. Aw, hell yeah. We gotta buy us a billiards table.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
I can't hear you anymore...
Good bye call center.
I stood up and walked out in mid February. I'd had enough. Someone I dearly love had just died. And I'd been out too late.
I came into work and saw my new schedule: four tens and a twelve. This was the third time they'd increased my hours in as many weeks. I even tried to sign in that day. I tried eight different computers. None of them worked.
So I wrote a pleasant sounding note and left it on my never-there supervisor's desk, and drove away. And hid out at the library and my boyfriend's during what would have been my shifts for four days, to avoid telling my family.
Fuck you, verizon. You treat your customers like shit and reward your employees for adding things to their accounts without the customers' knowledge. Also you treat your employees like shit if they don't do this. Which never, ever benefit the customer. I don't know much about your cellular service, I worked in the land-line/internet/tv division. But I'll never get your cell service because of it.
I now happily clean buildings for a living. The customers appreciate it and the employees are happy. huzzah.
I stood up and walked out in mid February. I'd had enough. Someone I dearly love had just died. And I'd been out too late.
I came into work and saw my new schedule: four tens and a twelve. This was the third time they'd increased my hours in as many weeks. I even tried to sign in that day. I tried eight different computers. None of them worked.
So I wrote a pleasant sounding note and left it on my never-there supervisor's desk, and drove away. And hid out at the library and my boyfriend's during what would have been my shifts for four days, to avoid telling my family.
Fuck you, verizon. You treat your customers like shit and reward your employees for adding things to their accounts without the customers' knowledge. Also you treat your employees like shit if they don't do this. Which never, ever benefit the customer. I don't know much about your cellular service, I worked in the land-line/internet/tv division. But I'll never get your cell service because of it.
I now happily clean buildings for a living. The customers appreciate it and the employees are happy. huzzah.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
I can't believe it's not single!
"It" being me. I was almost used to the fact that I would not find anybody in this world to love and be loved by. It doesn't mean that this might not end at some point. I have no clue.
But it's so good. I feel like I don't often look at the good parts in life, but rather focus on the bad. So let's take a moment to review the good.
That morning he woke me up with the sweetest sex evar, and I orgasmed three times.
Around Christmas time, when he bought me an FX lightsaber, but was unfortunate enough to be the second person to purchase it for me. Those things are 150 bucks. Heh. Poor boy had to return it. But then he got me a PS 2 to replace the one that "disappeared" (probably got thrown away by my gamer hating mother). JUST as good.
The way he uses ridiculous, embarrassing pet names. That I secretly love but openly despise. Sweety pie? Really? SUGAR LIPS? Sweetheart. Honey. Why? I do not know. I can't even convince myself to use em. I always feel like a freak when I do it. And I (secretly) feel special when he does it.
He accepts me. And all the crazy things that I do. No, not just accepts. Enjoys. I thought it would take a miracle to find someone who wasn't bothered by my weirdness. Now I've got somebody as odd as me.
Permit me an emoticon.
^_^
:D
\m/>.<\m/
God? I know we don't talk much of late. But thank you. He's wonderful. Bless him. I love him. Muy mucho. Even with all the bitter parts I dearly, dearly love him.
(I also enjoy tormenting him by writing this in his presence and not letting him read it.)
But it's so good. I feel like I don't often look at the good parts in life, but rather focus on the bad. So let's take a moment to review the good.
That morning he woke me up with the sweetest sex evar, and I orgasmed three times.
Around Christmas time, when he bought me an FX lightsaber, but was unfortunate enough to be the second person to purchase it for me. Those things are 150 bucks. Heh. Poor boy had to return it. But then he got me a PS 2 to replace the one that "disappeared" (probably got thrown away by my gamer hating mother). JUST as good.
The way he uses ridiculous, embarrassing pet names. That I secretly love but openly despise. Sweety pie? Really? SUGAR LIPS? Sweetheart. Honey. Why? I do not know. I can't even convince myself to use em. I always feel like a freak when I do it. And I (secretly) feel special when he does it.
He accepts me. And all the crazy things that I do. No, not just accepts. Enjoys. I thought it would take a miracle to find someone who wasn't bothered by my weirdness. Now I've got somebody as odd as me.
Permit me an emoticon.
^_^
:D
\m/>.<\m/
God? I know we don't talk much of late. But thank you. He's wonderful. Bless him. I love him. Muy mucho. Even with all the bitter parts I dearly, dearly love him.
(I also enjoy tormenting him by writing this in his presence and not letting him read it.)
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Of note:
Music man put his ex-wife under family in his phone contacts... It's probably petty for me to be bothered by that. Argh. I'm a terrible person. Probably.
SeX-files
In the interest of sexually educating myself I find myself filling my internet search history with horrifying things:
The dirty sanchez: I heard it mentioned on south park and I thought, huh, what an odd name for a sex position. I'll have to look that up. Pretty much involves fingering somebody in the asshole and drawing them a grody new mustache.
Did you know that the whips and chains are actually pretty light as far as bondage goes these days? There are women that drive giant needles through their breasts and put clamps on their labias. Yeah, I kind of thought I was kinky. I've got nothing on em.
I've found I've got a bit of a fetish for vine bondage porn. Generally it's all drawn, rather than pictures or videos.
A secondary note on vine bondage porn, I discovered a very disturbing picture of Yoshi in that particular search. No, I shan't link it. Google it. I'm sure you'll find it. But I'm not going to shoulder any responsibility for any kind of psychological trauma.
Tossing the salad, rimming and licking asshole all mean the same thing. Feels good to receive, blows my sense of self-worth to hell when I do it. (frankly goth guy insisted and I hate him for it. I hope he trips over a curb and messes his face up so bad that even his fancy new wife won't touch that shit.)
It is really freaking hard to find good written erotica online. Really, really hard. It's like there's no middle ground between too much plot (published erotica) and the scripts that the B rate porn industry rejected (the stuff I find online).
Seriously. I found a story about a crazy raping alien. It didn't get me horny. It just left me wondering how I'd managed to get to the end. (I've decided it's the same basic deal as a car accident with multiple fatalities. Just couldn't look away. No matter how horrible it was.)
Actually the best erotica I found online was accidental, whilst searching vine bondage on deviantart.com. I discovered this gem. The title is Fetish Island and it's a choose your own path erotica! GOOD IDEA. I commend the writer.
The dirty sanchez: I heard it mentioned on south park and I thought, huh, what an odd name for a sex position. I'll have to look that up. Pretty much involves fingering somebody in the asshole and drawing them a grody new mustache.
Did you know that the whips and chains are actually pretty light as far as bondage goes these days? There are women that drive giant needles through their breasts and put clamps on their labias. Yeah, I kind of thought I was kinky. I've got nothing on em.
I've found I've got a bit of a fetish for vine bondage porn. Generally it's all drawn, rather than pictures or videos.
A secondary note on vine bondage porn, I discovered a very disturbing picture of Yoshi in that particular search. No, I shan't link it. Google it. I'm sure you'll find it. But I'm not going to shoulder any responsibility for any kind of psychological trauma.
Tossing the salad, rimming and licking asshole all mean the same thing. Feels good to receive, blows my sense of self-worth to hell when I do it. (frankly goth guy insisted and I hate him for it. I hope he trips over a curb and messes his face up so bad that even his fancy new wife won't touch that shit.)
It is really freaking hard to find good written erotica online. Really, really hard. It's like there's no middle ground between too much plot (published erotica) and the scripts that the B rate porn industry rejected (the stuff I find online).
Seriously. I found a story about a crazy raping alien. It didn't get me horny. It just left me wondering how I'd managed to get to the end. (I've decided it's the same basic deal as a car accident with multiple fatalities. Just couldn't look away. No matter how horrible it was.)
Actually the best erotica I found online was accidental, whilst searching vine bondage on deviantart.com. I discovered this gem. The title is Fetish Island and it's a choose your own path erotica! GOOD IDEA. I commend the writer.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
God forgive us the things that we do...
Will I really end up staying with him?
What a terrible mystery. I wonder what Sherlock Holmes would tell me. He'd know right away. Because he's Sherlock. You know.
I love Music Man. I know that Music Man loves me. But of course there's a problem. And of course it's his ex-wife. He wishes he could have made it work. I asked if he wished he was back with her rather than with me, like if he could go back, would he? He told me if I had never seen him, yes. Not, no, not now that I know you. I love you and want to be with you.
If she asked to work it out, his heart would break because he couldn't. What, because he's stuck with me? THAT'S not okay.
He tried to leave me a week before valentines day. Because it wasn't fair to me and he needed to deal with his shit by himself. And I fought back. I said no. I fought for him to stay with me. Because I love him so much.
Sometimes he makes me feel guilty for doing this. He says I played "the game". Whatever anyone does in a relationship to keep the person they love is apparently part of "the game". Or if they're trying to get what they want, they play "the game".
I hate it. So, so much. Fuck the game. I don't want to play. stop saying that I already am. I don't want to.
Finally I asked, did he regret the choice to stay with me? No. He doesn't. So I don't see why he has to make me feel bad about it. I don't know that he does it intentionally. But it's awful.
There is only one person in this world that I wish was a bad person. Her. If she was a bad person then I might feel like a savior rather than just the poor bastard that came after her. The woman he feels he'd be perfect for, now that he's the man he feels he was when they first met.
Erggh. I wish she was a cylon. Or a cannibal. Or a serial killer.
Just so I could feel like I wasn't second string.
That's terrible.
Ah well. I hope some day he can love me like he loved (loves?) her. And I have to remember that there isn't just one perfect person out there for everyone. We fuck up sometimes. We do something that makes it impossible for a previously compatible pair to continue on. And then we have to move on to somebody else, to see if they too are compatible.
God forgive us the things that we do. And/or think.....
What a terrible mystery. I wonder what Sherlock Holmes would tell me. He'd know right away. Because he's Sherlock. You know.
I love Music Man. I know that Music Man loves me. But of course there's a problem. And of course it's his ex-wife. He wishes he could have made it work. I asked if he wished he was back with her rather than with me, like if he could go back, would he? He told me if I had never seen him, yes. Not, no, not now that I know you. I love you and want to be with you.
If she asked to work it out, his heart would break because he couldn't. What, because he's stuck with me? THAT'S not okay.
He tried to leave me a week before valentines day. Because it wasn't fair to me and he needed to deal with his shit by himself. And I fought back. I said no. I fought for him to stay with me. Because I love him so much.
Sometimes he makes me feel guilty for doing this. He says I played "the game". Whatever anyone does in a relationship to keep the person they love is apparently part of "the game". Or if they're trying to get what they want, they play "the game".
I hate it. So, so much. Fuck the game. I don't want to play. stop saying that I already am. I don't want to.
Finally I asked, did he regret the choice to stay with me? No. He doesn't. So I don't see why he has to make me feel bad about it. I don't know that he does it intentionally. But it's awful.
There is only one person in this world that I wish was a bad person. Her. If she was a bad person then I might feel like a savior rather than just the poor bastard that came after her. The woman he feels he'd be perfect for, now that he's the man he feels he was when they first met.
Erggh. I wish she was a cylon. Or a cannibal. Or a serial killer.
Just so I could feel like I wasn't second string.
That's terrible.
Ah well. I hope some day he can love me like he loved (loves?) her. And I have to remember that there isn't just one perfect person out there for everyone. We fuck up sometimes. We do something that makes it impossible for a previously compatible pair to continue on. And then we have to move on to somebody else, to see if they too are compatible.
God forgive us the things that we do. And/or think.....
Monday, January 24, 2011
Roxanne
It's a good name for her because she's pretty whorish. I dearly love her. But she's a whore.
She's been one of my closest friends for a long time. She used to be somebody that I knew would be well worth some fella's time some day. But now I just pity the fool.
Aforementioned fool happens to be Music Man's best friend. "Leave-britney-alone-guy-but-not-gay" is too long of a name, so we'll call him Lyrics lord. (another musician)
Lyrics Lord and Roxanne set me up with Music man. Back when they were dating. Which they aren't doing any more. Or so I thought...
Roxanne couldn't stop speaking to her ex-ass-hole-non-committal-friend-w-benefits.
Lord Lyrics (flows better than Lyrics Lord) couldn't handle it. And so he left her. And she was super bummed. She didn't let him go. She just kept going. Kept calling, texting, throwing herself at him. It really bothered me. It's like throwing yourself under the wheels of a truck that's already passed you by.
But this truck came back. heh. funny implications, there...
I don't understand people. I really thought that I sort of did. It is my JOB to talk to people at their most unreasonable: when they're trying to make sense of their phone bill. But I'm still at a loss as to how this is working.
Music man told me not two nights ago that Lord Lyrics couldn't care less if he saw Roxanne ever again. Apparently not the case.
I wonder how Roxanne redeemed herself.
She's been one of my closest friends for a long time. She used to be somebody that I knew would be well worth some fella's time some day. But now I just pity the fool.
Aforementioned fool happens to be Music Man's best friend. "Leave-britney-alone-guy-but-not-gay" is too long of a name, so we'll call him Lyrics lord. (another musician)
Lyrics Lord and Roxanne set me up with Music man. Back when they were dating. Which they aren't doing any more. Or so I thought...
Roxanne couldn't stop speaking to her ex-ass-hole-non-committal-friend-w-benefits.
Lord Lyrics (flows better than Lyrics Lord) couldn't handle it. And so he left her. And she was super bummed. She didn't let him go. She just kept going. Kept calling, texting, throwing herself at him. It really bothered me. It's like throwing yourself under the wheels of a truck that's already passed you by.
But this truck came back. heh. funny implications, there...
I don't understand people. I really thought that I sort of did. It is my JOB to talk to people at their most unreasonable: when they're trying to make sense of their phone bill. But I'm still at a loss as to how this is working.
Music man told me not two nights ago that Lord Lyrics couldn't care less if he saw Roxanne ever again. Apparently not the case.
I wonder how Roxanne redeemed herself.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
The way you look at me
Music Man: I cannot admit to you that I have very much serious feelings for you because I'm afraid of how fickle you are. Cheery one minute, leaving without letting me kiss you goodnight the next.
I am so afraid. I think that I'm in love with you and then you essentially abandon me on a night when I really, really needed some support. Maybe I should have just said that out loud? How else can I say it?? I told you how hard my week had been, how frustrated I am with my job.
You can't have an emotional disaster on a night when I need you...
You can't leave telling me it's to keep yourself from screaming at me.... you're killing me. How can I admit to loving that now? I know you were trying to protect me, protect what we have. Idunno. You shouldn't have the sudden need to scream at somebody.
I know you're working on it. I'm not denying that. I'm simply a little freaked out because I'm just figuring out that I love you, and I work in a living hell. I'm dying there. They're killing me. I'd like to work fast food again. If I take my piercings out I can maybe work at in n out. They pay really well.
I was clingy tonight because I'm dying inside and I missed you. I hadn't seen you in days. Aaaand you left me crying. I know you were being good to me. You could have had the strength to kiss me goodnight. That I would have appreciated greatly.
I'm so scared of being with you. I want it so much, and every time I finally feel like it's okay, you welcome me, make me feel safe. But then the next time I see you it's like you want to strike the safe feelings away.
I love you.
I know that you love me. You had the courage to admit it while I'm still hiding. Please hurry. Fight back against this thing that drives you to such anger and come back to me. I really need you.
I know, I know, everyone comes to you needing something. And I'm trying so hard to not be the needy girlfriend, because it's not what YOU need right now. But I think every once in a while it's not such a bad thing, to foster my whiny self with your awesomeness. I ask for so little. I just want to be held.
I am so afraid. I think that I'm in love with you and then you essentially abandon me on a night when I really, really needed some support. Maybe I should have just said that out loud? How else can I say it?? I told you how hard my week had been, how frustrated I am with my job.
You can't have an emotional disaster on a night when I need you...
You can't leave telling me it's to keep yourself from screaming at me.... you're killing me. How can I admit to loving that now? I know you were trying to protect me, protect what we have. Idunno. You shouldn't have the sudden need to scream at somebody.
I know you're working on it. I'm not denying that. I'm simply a little freaked out because I'm just figuring out that I love you, and I work in a living hell. I'm dying there. They're killing me. I'd like to work fast food again. If I take my piercings out I can maybe work at in n out. They pay really well.
I was clingy tonight because I'm dying inside and I missed you. I hadn't seen you in days. Aaaand you left me crying. I know you were being good to me. You could have had the strength to kiss me goodnight. That I would have appreciated greatly.
I'm so scared of being with you. I want it so much, and every time I finally feel like it's okay, you welcome me, make me feel safe. But then the next time I see you it's like you want to strike the safe feelings away.
I love you.
I know that you love me. You had the courage to admit it while I'm still hiding. Please hurry. Fight back against this thing that drives you to such anger and come back to me. I really need you.
I know, I know, everyone comes to you needing something. And I'm trying so hard to not be the needy girlfriend, because it's not what YOU need right now. But I think every once in a while it's not such a bad thing, to foster my whiny self with your awesomeness. I ask for so little. I just want to be held.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Hurts
Music man misses his ex-wife.
He wouldn't stop me if I tried to leave, I don't think. What's worse is he feels trapped, because I told him he was one of the only good things in a life that's frankly terrible right now.
I guess I need to pretend that my life is good. And probably stop sleeping with him.
For once I get someone good that I like, and who likes me. And he has to be recently divorced, torn apart by the shame of his failure as a husband, missing his ex and telling me he feels trapped because apparently I'm too pathetic to leave.
Fuck. That hurts.
He wouldn't stop me if I tried to leave, I don't think. What's worse is he feels trapped, because I told him he was one of the only good things in a life that's frankly terrible right now.
I guess I need to pretend that my life is good. And probably stop sleeping with him.
For once I get someone good that I like, and who likes me. And he has to be recently divorced, torn apart by the shame of his failure as a husband, missing his ex and telling me he feels trapped because apparently I'm too pathetic to leave.
Fuck. That hurts.
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