(Post not for children or teens. Warning!)
I don’t know what’s going on.
Maybe it’s my hormones.
Maybe it’s the holidays.
Maybe it’s my meds.
Maybe it’s my memories.
All I want is an apology…
the past couple of days.
It comes and goes.
I get the thought.
I think it out
and let it go
because I know
it’s so fucking pointless.
I’ve been hurt. If you look at my body, you can tell. I’ve been fucked over more than once. If you speak to me you’ll soon figure it out. Even though I can hold it together on the phone, and make pleasant conversation easily, I’m still healing, but I’VE MOVED ON. And that’s why it doesn’t make much sense.
And now, I SOMETIMES want an apology for all the shit that’s happened.
It’s completely unrealistic. I don’t even get it. I really DON’T want it. But it crosses my mind.
Why don’t I want it?
Because the personI want it from doesn’t give a shit I ever existed. And, I rarely think of it.
I’m so tempted to send a text, when this happens, from an anonymous number and be like “Aren’t you sorry? Aren’t you sorry for the bullshit attempt to shame me? Aren’t you sorry for the lies you said about me? Aren’t you sorry for cowering behind your loud ass rude mother fuckin beast of a mother and lawyers and your parent’s fucking money you son of a bitch? Aren’t you sorry for never being a man? Aren’t you sorry for lying to me? Aren’t you sorry for taking advantage of my naivety? Aren’t you sorry for attempting to disgrace me to my family in ways I could never even imagine before that point? YOU WERE SO CREATIVE!
Does it keep you awake at night? Are you back in therapy and blaming me? Did they have you committed (again) yet? Have you done another FAKE suicide attempt (again) yet? Are you back to smokin’ crack and poppin pills and shit with your stupid fuckin’ getting-nowhere lowlife friends, talking shit because you’re an addict who’s always using an excuse, and now I can be that excuse? Have you done it to another girl since me? Are you still stalking my Facebook under fake names? Do you read this blog, somehow figuring out it’s me? Does what you did keep you awake at night? Are you even sorry?”
I think about this. And I think of the response I’d get — NO.
Or, maybe a fake, “yes”.
It Doesn’t Matter.
When you really love someone, you never try to hurt them. It doesn’t matter what happens. You never try to hurt them. You move mountains to be with them. You don’t give up. You do anything to make them smile. You never try to hurt them. You never purposely hurt them. You don’t smile when you hurt them. You don’t get joy from hurting them. You don’t do what he did. You don’t try to hurt the one you just said the day before you loved. Even when shit happens, you hold it together the best you can. Shit happens in relationships. You don’t keep hurting the person. You try to get control of yourself, be stronger, and do the best you can in the situation. You address the problem the minute it surfaces, and treat it seriously and attempt to work it out instead of shoving it under a rug until it blows. You don’t do what he did.
It’s all fucking bullshit.
I hate it crosses my mind on the rare occasion.
I don’t know if I’ll post this.
I think it’s the hormones.
PS- I’ve dated a lot of nicer, kinder, sweeter, hotter, and better in bed men since then. Life isn’t all that bad at all now ♥