Yeah...I'm doing it this time by myself...No strange men in my bed to keep your spot warm. No sleeping around to push the pain back. Everything is what it is...Real, raw, painful, there.
I can't do anything this time, Marcus. I can't keep doing this with you for the rest of my life.
I know that you usually come back and say that you're sorry and tell me how much I didn't deserve the treatment and I know that those are my fondest memories of the most recent past. It's sick, really, to look back and smile when I think of the tears in your eyes and the remorse in your voice. When I think about how you cannot stand the thought of me with someone else. It's disgusting to be happy about someone else's pain, but you cause it everytime. You hurt me...I wonder if it's intentional or if you have some bigger plan attached to your evil.
I don't really know that you have any idea how bad it actually does hurt. I'm tired of trying to explain it and I am tired of talking about it because according to (nearly) everyone, I have brought it upon myself.
Who knows...Maybe this time you won't come back...I hope you do. I hope you come back like you have every other time with an apology and a kind word.
I still love you. Maybe I'll talk to you tomorrow.
2 comments:
I dunno that I'm qualified to be leaving comments in this thread or any other, but after seeing several 0 comments in a row, I figured it's important to let you know you have a reader. A reader who wishes you the best as you deal with All This Stuff.
Thank you, 'mouse, sir!
You're plenty qualified to leave any comment that you please. I love comments!
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