Sorry* if you don't like me

It started out ok. We all started out ok, didn’t we? I mean, I kinda made sense and was fun and it all moved so fast that it was a sort of filled with the euphoria of rush. You know? That perma-haze of inebriation, endless parties, too many people, too few inhibitions.
Was I too slow to begin with? Was that the problem?

It is alright, right? Tell me it’s alright. I’m new to all of this and I would previously described myself as malleable with an edge of fragility immersed in a keenness to be kind and do the right thing.
I’m sorry if I disappointed you. You’re kind of dominating my thoughts now and I think it is a little unfair of you. Especially since we have never properly met and also because of my gentle character traits (see above, thanks for skimming so fast you missed them or it bored you or, like, WHATEVER).
See what you’ve done? You’ve managed to get me upset enough to shout! What a joke. Sitting here, shouting at someone who I never met but managed to disappoint and I’m upset about it! This IS ludicrous.
I cannot believe I have allowed you to sneak under my skin like this. It was meant to be fun, wait, it IS meant to be fun!
Do you know what that is?
Do you know how words can hurt people?
Do you know how stupid I feel saying that given the nature of this beast?

Jesus. Why do people do it? It is just so unnecessary. I’m just going to swallow it for now. I’m not actually going to tell them what they did. No. They do not beat me today.
I’m trying hard here. I’m just a different brand to you.
So I don’t fit what you were expecting? Yaboosucks to you, I bet I can strip a willow faster than you. You will not be a dent in my armor today. I won’t allow it (and yet, I kind of already have).

See. I told you I was fragile. And you can just…just…f off. (There, I said it).

*I’m not sorry. Go call Becky with the Good Hair.

You need to take a long look at yourself and see why it is terrible.

For both of us, the nights are terrible as day.

We need to spend some time apart.

It’s been two months. We have spent time apart. Why are you back?

What’s your purpose. No. No. Shut up. SHUT UP. I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses.

You still don’t get it? Your words, your fucking words. Your mother -

I’m going to stop. I don’t believe it. After two months, you’ve still learned nothing. Nothing at all.

I forgot about you actually, would you believe that? Completely forgot about you. Nothing in my mind about you for at least a month. I no longer felt like a disappointment, no longer felt like I needed to be with you to feel complete. I was myself.

If you’re back, it better be by choice.


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