Why sugar coat it? If the shoe fits… he should have to wear ’em both.
I am so fucking sick of being toyed with, led on and tormented that I’m about to punch him in the ballsack. If I don’t get to play with it, neither should he.
I- You know what sounds good?
Indeed I do…. but I’m not going near that with a 10 foot pole.
J- Yeah, I do. You first.
I- A nap… in front of the fire.
Visions of scintillating sex with him in front of my fireplace burn like dry kindling behind my poor tear-tortured eyeballs. They hurt so badly and my patience is gone.
I- Is that what you were going to say?
J- No. No it wasn’t.
I- Well, let’s hear it.
I was born with more grace than that and I will not respond in a way that cripples me further. I’m sick of this fucking arsonist and his endless pursuit of my misery.
J- Always lighting fires you aren’t going to put out. No thanks.
I- OHHHHH I am not.
Insert executive level side eye and his rapid silence. Yes, he has. He’s been lighting fires for a year, torching kindling for 6 months and throwing matches into the dry brush even faster.
The man loves to watch how hot he can burn me down without actually doing anything about it, personally.
I’m all torched out, thanks. I’m angry, grief stricken and exhausted after a year of sleepless nights obsessing about him.
I can’t help but love him and honestly if there were anything anyone could give me to make me feel like not shooting myself in the face right now… it’s him.
He’s the only thing I want right now… and I don’t necessarily mean sexually. I want his arms around me. I want that nap with him. Fire or not. I want him to cook me something that doesn’t feel like cardboard in my mouth. I don’t even care what it is really as long as I’m wrapped in something that smells like him to keep me warm.
He knows that.
He knows the depths of my grief because he’s the one I shared it with.
I- Can I help you?
J- Yes, you can… but you choose not to. How many times are we going to have this conversation?
I- That depends on you.
So here, in the face of insurmountable grief… he chooses to reject me further.
and finally, more broken than I ever imagined survivable… I hate him in fresh ways. I regret my feelings to painful depths and I wish I could walk away from my life and never see him again.
Long story short… ’twas a hard day.