I am waiting for you to say something that will transform how I feel. I am waiting for you to say I'm sorry. I am waiting for you to come to my door and say you were wrong and that you understand. I am waiting for you to pick up the phone. I am waiting for you to call. I am waiting for you to be a different person. I am waiting for me to stop feeling cheated. I am waiting for the flashes of terror to wear off. I am waiting for my PTSD to cool off.
Used. A joke. Pathetic. Crazy. Played. Where is the fun? Where is the love? Where is the peace? I feel the pressure. I feel the void. I feel the madness. I feel the pain. Actual physical pain. I feel the anger.
You didn't know. How could you? All the heartache, all the abandonment, all the struggle, all the loneliness.
You don't know how to love me. You don't know me. It's not you. You are just another clueless guy. You just stick to what you know. You just went along for the ride. Like they all do. Just a fun time with a weird girl that you'll dump when things get messy or when you don't feel like it anymore.
And I. I am just sitting here. Burnt. Trying to make sense of all of this. And I feel drained. I feel drained. I feel drained. I feel drained. I feel drained. I feel drained. I feel drained. I feel drained.
drained
drained
drained
drained
drained
drained
drained
drained
I wish I could type until this feeling ceased to exist. I wish you could make it go away. But you won't. No one will. It's me and myself and I again. With a suitcase in one hand and the work on the other. Just work. Just write. Just work. Just push. Push. Push. Push and this feeling will go away. And this pussy will heal. And this body won't hurt.
I hope you had fun.


















