Grow up.

I won’t exchange jabs like a child with someone who only talks to me drunk or pissed off. And especially not through a blog I used to share with that person.

Therefore, this blog is condemned, as well as the other 2 you follow. You won’t be keeping tabs on me anymore, I’m sick of loving you and hoping you’ll change and ask me to take you back seriously. I’m sick of waiting on you to show me you’re ready when it’ll never happen. I’m sick of feeling on edge wondering if today will be the day.

I should’ve accepted it was gone.

Misrepresented

You only liked me because I backed down when I feared losing you. I can’t lose you now, you’re not mine and you made it clear you never would be again. Why should I fight to reprise a role that isn’t offered.

I’m not good enough for your lifestyle.

You get what you give, but I don’t want another declaration of love leading me on just to be disappointed when you say I’m responsible for the different tragedies in your life.

“The next chords struck are fault & failure.”

I know you’re my wife. I just never figured out how to bring you up to speed.

I’m no different. I spent time serving as your support beam despite the fact you were incapable of returning the favor. I prayed for my words to permeate your skin, but you resigned yourself to the idea that I was a wolf in sheep’s clothing and acted on it. It broke me. So write about how I don’t wear life on my face another time.

Confused? I resigned myself to the idea that we were soulmates. A broken pair is two halves, now I’m just taking the part I was left with. That’s baffling.

You’re all the soul and I’m all of nothing inspiring. I’m sorry.

If I could believe in people getting what they deserved I might grant this new kind of living to it. One turn in karmic revolution, and here weI am.

Most days I’m too busy to notice what doesn’t happen, but every night I feel it. This self-imposed exile is becoming routine. No phone. No TV (I don’t remember what’s happening on The Office). An hour of internet per day. No doctors, because a part of me saw nothing to improve myself for. I’m the only one stuck here and I feel pathetic, but this is where I swore I’d be. Keeping that promise is important even if it’s only me that knows why.

I keep my hair short just in case, though. I’ve grown an almost-beard, because I’m too lazy to shave. It’s too painful and I don’t see the point in suffering if no-one reaps the benefits of a clean shaven face.

I abandoned necktie and polo shirt professionalism for a chair in a tattoo shop. I rented out my house for a loft apartment; the kind I thought I’d be sharing with someone who probably shares their life with a someone that isn’t me.

I’m not sure where I am but I guess I’m doing alright.

I adopted a black kitten and named it Thomas because there was once a cat I knew, but didn’t get to meet, who was named Tom.

One of the worst days to occur over that year and (almost) a half span was the day Tom died because I wasn’t to blame for the sadness that followed. When you think about the people you love experiencing pain, you want to manage it. At least if you’re responsible for causing that pain, you know how to stop it.

When you’re not, you just have to wait it out.

I wonder if I’m wrong.

I wonder if she feels wrong.

I wonder if sometime I’ll grow up.
I wonder if there’s some strange plan in the works that’ll bring us back full circle and we’ll just pick up where we left things I left things.

I wonder if she’d answer the phone even though I know she doesn’t because I’ve tried.

I wonder if it was even real. I wonder if I’m missed or replaced. I wonder if anyone ever checks this anymore. I wonder if I’ll be alone forever now.

Maybe I should be.

We broke up.

Game over.