Stupid, I know it is. Like I’d be any luckier if it was our next life.
Or the next one.
Or whatever. My point being I’ll never earn enough favor with the gods.
That’s just.
Stupid.
I still think about a someday though, at least to myself. At least when I’m alone.
So.
Always.
Knowing it’s lethal. Knowing it’s a fucking killer.
I mean, what do you want me to say?
Yeah. I still live there. I still live in the time of you and I.
It’s softer here, the edges, not so eager to cut me until I bleed.
I can leave any fucking time I want to.
You don’t have to look at me that way.
I can forget anytime I want to.
Right now, if I chose to. You don’t know.
Look at me, you, all Doubting Thomas, like I don’t see the fucking disdain for me.
Because my inability to pretend I’m not completely fucking destroyed is clearly a point of contention with you.
Well, what the fuck else is new, sir?
What don’t I do with too much emotion? What don’t I understand?
Everything, duh.
Every fucking thing. All of it.
Yea, you cut me this time.
All the way to the handle, forcefully.
Dick move. I mean, it was.
You didn’t have to hurt me like that.
Well.
I mean.
Yeah, you did. Because I don’t listen. Because I don’t learn.
Stupid.
I’m gonna quit you though. I’m doing it right now.
Just because I’m still in love with the man I built up in my mind.
It’s not the same. I’m not hurting anyone.
Just myself.
So, nothing new.
Still dragging myself face first through the metal shavings on the floor from you sawing directly through my fucking breastplate.
I haven’t even grieved.
I’ve just lived like you would come back one day.
But I knew. I always knew.
I know it’s time.
I put towels down in case it guts me. I don’t wanna fuck this floor up.
Probably gonna fuck this floor up.
You know, I’m sorry. For falling apart. That shit was unprofessional. Really, just, I’m disappointed in my gangster.
But, man. Fuck.
It hurt so fucking bad.
I mean, it caved me for a minute. I felt it in my literal heart. I don’t ever want to feel that again.
I loved you. I mean. Well, you know. No need to explain it again, God knows it’s printed into eternity and I’ll never be able to pretend I didn’t feel it.
I think that’s beautiful. I always will. Committed the way I love you to being scribed to history.
All woe is me martyring, because “look how brave”, and “she looks gutted”.
I know.
I saw me.
It’s bad.
Stupid.
💜💜💜