I imagine myself standing there in his parking garage, keys in hand, ready to scribble my whole heart out into the side of his car.
I don't really want to mess up his car, I just need him to know how I feel. I don't really have the balls to do it, so I shake off the thought and go back to half watching television.
I don't know why everyone always says "I just want him to be happy." That's bullshit.
Does everyone really feel that way? I certainly don't...I'm miserable. I want him to be miserable too.
I get on SnapChat just to make sure he's not on there smiling. Happy. Having fun. I want him to be sad, crying, and drowning his feelings in a bottle. Instead, he's posting pictures of a dinner date with 2 plates. The 2nd plate magically doesn't have a face or owner (of course), just perfectly manicured hands. It stings a little, but whatever...I never really liked that restaurant anyways.
It would be weird for him to be simpin' on social media, but it would at least make me feel better. It would make me feel like what we had mattered...like I mattered to him.
You see, our love story wasn't all that complicated. Boy meets girl. Girl thinks boy is cute, and funny. Boy tells girl she's cute and funny. They go on some dates, meet family and friends, and end up as boyfriend and girlfriend.
Simple enough, right?
Then boy has some sudden revelation that he's not "happy," and girl spends the next 6 months of her life trying to scrounge up some obscure happiness for him to have so he'll stay in the relationship. Then they both end up miserable. Her from trying. Him from just wanting out. One small tiny insignificant issue erupts into a "well, if you're not happy, leave" moment, and then...well...he leaves.
But wait...I don't think I actually meant LEAVE leave...I just meant...be happy...be happy here with me.
Apparently that wasn't an option, so I'm sitting here eating ice cream by the pint, wishing you continued unhappiness.
While also still wishing you would just call...
So you can hear my misery, but mostly so I can hear yours too.
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I don’t forgive him. Not yet.
Bodies moving in sync
You can't come in here...
There was no glory in side-chicking or deception, only pain and illusion.
I love him for making me feel loved.
6 years, 2 kids, countless jail/prison stays, and the abuse...
In the loneliest hour my thoughts seem to always go back to you.
It's time for "the talk."
My late night ritual consists of 4 cookies, a cold glass of almond milk, and going through my fiance’s phone...
I laid there staring at the ceiling...
Blue-green plush carpet sliding through my hands. Chirps coming from crickets we hid in grandma's closet...
I had this glorious idea of how I could tell my story, but then I received a phone call from a distant ex tonight...