Hunny Bunny

Fuck It.  I cannot control what comes out right now so I'm just gonna go with it.  This isn't about you.  It's about me scraping out my brain full of the shit that I don't want rattling around in there anymore.  "Write it down", all the experts say...well, and why not for the whole world to read and pass judgement on.  Fuck It.

I spent the first six months of our relationship listening to you speak in vivid detail about your ex.  Six months of you wallowing, contemplating and attempting to come to terms with a crazy bitch that took your virginity and messed with your mind.  Your beautiful, fragile, open and compelling mind.  I'm sorry that happened to you but I didn't need to hear about it.  I allowed you to drone on and on because I liked it when you smiled and how wide your shoulders were.

I slept on the couch while you and your bestie slept in the same bed together when we all hung out.  I felt so fucking low that night and I don't know why I stayed.  I enjoyed making you laugh and your mom seemed cool.

I stuck around while your parents disappointed you and the world shat on your ideas.  I took you places you've never been and opened you to a world you've always lived in and never noticed.  You helped me feel alive and new once more.  Oh those defining moments...

Two years later and we're not exactly hating one another but shit be broke.  I allowed the world in and you shut it all out.  You bury yourself in music, technology, blading, drugs, anything to keep you from a single silent moment with that special voice inside your head that only you can hear.  I'm not blaming you.  I'm trying not to blame me.  It's over and for now, that's for the best.

You can't stand on the backs of other people to get what you want.  You can't burden others with your money woes because you want what you want when you want it.  Well, I guess you can because we'll let you.  I cooked, cleaned and took care of you as best I could.  I became your apartment mother.  Tried not to...but you know what they say about the best intentions.  I felt drained.  A shell.  I was becoming someone who didn't enjoy being alive.  I clung to you and your needs like a fly to that last grain of sugar in the bottom of the bowl.  If you love someone, you put their needs above your own.  The other should reciprocate and love prevails!  That's not how things went.  You dug your heels in deeper as I tried to drag you across the carpet to commitment.  I just wanted to belong to you, with you.  Your shit got so annoying and unappealing.  Two years and you still live at home, suckling off the teat of dearest mummy who can't fucking stand ya'll being there.  Two years later and you think the world owes you favors cuz you had it rough.  Two years later and neither one of us can stand the effort it takes to be honest with the other.  Two years later and we have regressed to silence and contempt.

Now I feel relief.  I miss you but you're an asshole.  You take and take and look at me with those gorgeous eyes and I melt and give and give.  Still, with this entry I'm giving away my post.  I acted like a lunatic.  This I know all too well.  You chose to love me how you needed to, all the while denying me my needs.  You dismissed what I wanted from you because you couldn't speak the language...nope, you just weren't listening.  You still can't see it and I'm done being your teacher.  Now you have a swath of scummy friends to learn you how to treat women and get nothing in return but venereal disease and an empty hole where your heart use to be.  Do you want to get understood?  Or do you want to live in Sainthood flipping back pages to understand yourself?  That's the way love comes.

Just think what I would have wrote had I actually been pissed off?