I suppose IN TIME you might hopefully realize why you have no friends. Apart from me, but only because I’m stupid enough to put up with you. Yet even I, myself am wanting to walk away from you. Your behaviour has put me off you. I know that I was a good friend to you in hospital where we first met, and we have a history of living in quite a few institutions together, but that said, there’s only so much that I’m willing to put up with. Do you honestly expect me to just put up with more of your diva crap? It affects my mental wellbeing. I always feel deflated every time I come back home from visiting your flat all day. I think you really don’t get the hint. If I stop answering your calls, it probably more than likely means that I’m more than done with you. Also, it’s very publicly humiliating when you act like such a spoilt princess. With me being quite a submissive person, I suppose you think you can dictate everything when I go anywhere with you, but I would love to know why you’re like this. You tell me how you have a neighbour who constantly harrases you, yet are you seriously not aware of how much YOU’RE harassing ME? Sorry but I can see what probably caused your late husbands heart attack while you were outside with him. Now I know why I’m your only friend. Yet why should I play the fool? It’s your own fault that people stop wanting to be around you. I see that you’re now getting one of the local taxi drivers involved to “Check that I’m alright!”. As you’re “worried” about me. No dear. You’re just worried that you’ve got no-one to be friends with now. By the way, woe is you.
My body doesn’t understand the way you love me. You call me delicate and gentle as a complement but really you take it as a challenge to see what it takes to finally break me. Your love is scorching; burning and blistering my skin. Your love is the chest pounds of an alpha gorilla; beating against my body with so much pride. And as fragile dandelions grow through concrete cracks, I look past the cracks in your soul; ignoring the darkest parts of you. My body doesn’t love you anymore; I know from the way I flinch at your touch and bile rises in my throat when you kiss my forehead. I don’t love you anymore and I wanted to tell you this morning. “Want some coffee?”, you asked as I made my way to the kitchen. “Yes, two sugars please”, my hoarse voice answered back.
I will never miss you because I have not missed your attempts to force me to apologize to you for my blood when you are the one holding the knife, you ass. I asked u for a ride, 10 minutes, not for 3 days of horseshit & attempts to drag me back into misery!
i miss feeling that you love me
and all those little gestures that
made me feel this way…
after all this time
i miss you
i miss you still
tonight i let myself feel
and try to feel you
like i used to
There’s no one else I trust with so much of my life because you don’t judge me too harshly for the bad. I miss you and I’m proud of you.
I should speak several languages.
I should have a model/athletes physique.
I should be an accomplished golfer and squasher? and just generally be good at all the rich people’s sports.
I should volunteer for charities.
I should read a book every week or month.
I should learn everything about and pay attention to the financial markets.
I should have written a book.
I should be married, and have children, and a promising career, and genuine purpose to my life.
All the things I should have done, all the wasted time and missed opportunities, weighs me down more than anything else. Every new day, I need to focus on the present and the future, and leave all my past regrets behind for good. When I do, even just with little things, I feel so much better.
I really miss you …I mean REALLY miss you.
I even dreamt about you last night and I was so annoyed when my alarm woke me..
So don’t say you miss me and don’t say it’s been too long… because for me it’s been much more than those words that you tell me that I don’t believe.
Because if they were true I wouldn’t be sitting here missing you.
The cargo hold of the dc-10 was completely silent but for the roar of the engines. 4 strangers sat, spaced apart, pondering their own respective tasks. This would certainly be an interesting start to the important business meeting I was headed to. I pretended to inspect my diamond cuff links as I quickly scanned my fellow passengers. To my left, a middle-aged woman with a face hardened by many years in the sun. “Médecins Sans Frontières”, said the badge hanging around her neck. Across from her was a gruff, burly man with a prominent scar running down the side of his face. I noticed writing on his lapel that said “De Oppresso Liber”. To his left, and across from me, a beautiful woman. So beautiful that when she met my discreet gaze, I immediately got nervous and looked away. It takes a lot for this savvy international businessman to to blush. But she was all that, and then some. There were no distinguishing marks, tags or signs of any kind. Her clothing, makeup, even hairstyle, were unremarkable, but not in any way disturbing of her beauty. There were no reads I could make, and so on this plane of four mysterious strangers, she was the most mysterious.