• come back

    by  • September 23, 2010 • Fear, Grief, Love - Pure and Simple, Miss You • 0 Comments

    Let me clarify one thing: I would never EVER choose you for a romantic relationship. I do find you attractive, but I don’t want that AT ALL and I’m worried that you think that’s what it is. I’d be insulted if you did – as if I’d ever do anything to hurt my husband, who is wonderful and a good friend to both of us. No, I’m very happy with him, thank you, and I wouldn’t want to get involved with you even if he weren’t in the picture, for too many reasons to count.

    The truth is that, in my own way, I love you SO FUCKING MUCH I can’t stand it sometimes. I don’t even know why. I mean sure, you have great qualities, but you’re also a disaster of a human being, a total mess. And you hurt me all the time, just by being you, and I know it’s not on purpose but Jesus you get me with these daggers right in the chest and it just kills. I am so concerned with your well being, especially now that you seem to have secluded yourself and won’t talk anymore. We used to talk all the time and I don’t understand what happened, I don’t know what I did wrong. You said not to think you’re avoiding on purpose, but what else am I supposed to think?

    Where the hell are you? What are you doing, and why? You have an IQ in the 150s and the mood swings of a pregnant teenager. I know that being friends with you could never be simple or easy, but I can’t be convinced you’re not worth it. I don’t know why but I can’t shake the belief that you’re special, and that strong agape love I have for you just refuses to die, no matter how long you stay silent and hidden, no matter how much drama you cause. I tell myself you are a melodramatic self-absorbed person who will never give back what I give in a relationship – because I’m not one of your special people, am I? I’m just old reliable, or I was. I’m comfortable furniture. I’m not mysterious and interesting like your “scene” friends. Well go to hell, then. I keep thinking they’ll bring you into the hospital where I work, suicidal, overdosed, and asking if I still work there. And after not having seen you in months or years that’ll be our reunion. You idiot, I can’t put anything past you.

    I wish I knew what the hell was going on in your head. I feel like punching you right now, I almost hate you sometimes. I wish I could turn the volume down on my emotions. But mostly I just wish you’d come back.

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