Why am I
writing this?
I guess I
just really don’t wanna wake up sad again. Do you know that feeling when you
really don’t wanna be with somebody anymore? It’s been your choice and you are
really disappointed. Disappointment is the worst, you’re not giving up, you’re
not even willing to.
When you’re
with someone not to wake up to the empty bed and all you get when you wake up
is cold sheets after he leaves, it’s not what you signed up for.
When you’re
with someone to get rid of this everlasting feeling of loneliness, but at the
end of the day he sits behind this huge piece of furniture, always busy, it is
not what you signed up for.
When he
cannot recognize the struggle you have with every step, every look into the
mirror or every try to fall asleep… you did not sign up for this either.
When you
look for a free soul and find a slave of textbooks that he needs to even tell
him how to shit properly, it is not what you signed up for. It is fucking not.
He looks up
textbooks for sex that he never wants to have with you. Because you are ugly,
you are a fat, dumb bitch, just as he called you the last time you fought.
He has real
trouble recognizing. Maybe if the life was binary, if he could write himself a
program or two or ten, in case 9 of those did not work out, if he could use a
machine to recognize the hurt he causes on daily basis. Maybe that’s when he
would not dare to remind you the last time you fought, the last time you hit
him. That is right, you hit him already many times. How did this happen? How is
he such a creature that makes you do it?
You, who
cries when a dog dies in TV series.
You, who
cries when a child dies in TV series.
You, who
cries when dies…
You ,who
cries…
You are
both weak and strong. It is confusing. Can you blame him for not recognizing
which one you are when you are both? Can you blame a personification of Sylvia
Plath’s black shoe? Funny how the last time he got on your nerves, he got hit
with a black shoe of yours. Honestly, you love it. You feel no regret, even
though he cannot forgive you that. Whenever he calls that back, at the back of
your head there is this big Cheshire’s cat smile you’d have if you ever get to
hit him with a black shoe again. You remind Cheshire’s cat a lot. You both are
fat and weird. This is what he lets you believe.
Do you even
have anyone to talk to? Besides him nobody knows your problems and that is
confusing. It is both good and bad. Good because “a relationship involves a
huge dose of crap trust”. Bad because he uses that, just like anyone. He
hits your greatest fears. Of your fights, you get it all: the bruises, the
scars and the emotional hurt. The most hurt you do to him is pull out his hair…and
hit him with a black shoe.
You cannot
apologize for that shoe. It is fucking hilarious for you.
You wouldn’t
cross a barrier and he wouldn’t lose his life because of you. Why do you let
yourself lose yours because of him? Are you blind and deaf? All he makes you
feel is worthless. You have real daddy issues, but seriously he shouldn’t of
been your “daddy”. He doesn’t even like girls like you. He once said he was
never interested into fat girls. He once tried to limit your eating, though
until he came you ate healthier than he could ever. Then he once said that you
are a fat whore. That you are insane and fat and ugly and all the stuff to hurt
you.
He is
blindly in love with his junkie mother, whose all stress and cares as he grew
up were where to drink and fuck. He has trouble recognizing the one whose
stress and cares as he grows old are to be the best she can, though she cannot
do a lot.
You are
suffering here. Alone with his snoring on your right and all that hatered on the
left and all that pain inside surrounded by the dark, with the only light
infront of you – this dumb computer light. It is not your savior, it is not the
light you should go towards. But it’s the only light you can go towards. Is
this the light at the end of the road? The light at the end of disappointment?
Is this the final day, the final hour of this crap? Tomorrow is the tenth month
you are in this. Can you make it until tomorrow?
I’m really
willing to wake him up and tell him. But I don’t really know what and I don’t
really know how and I don’t really know just anything. I don’t want it to last
and I want it to, but this is not how everything should be. You shouldn’t be
ugly and you shouldn’t be fat, you shouldn’t be a whore and you shouldn’t be
insane. You shouldn’t have trouble forgiving, but if you really do, then maybe
it is not worth it? Maybe your appearance is not worth this whole shit you put
it through. Maybe you are not worth needing to prove that you are good enough,
because honestly, you are unrecognizably good.
