I'll Wish I Hadn't Done This Later...
But, as usual, foresight and myself have a genuine disconnect.
You know, I don’t know why in the fuck I ever sit in this chair and think that any man in my life is ever going to be what I need him to be.
He’s not going to say what I need him to say.
He’s not going to do what I need him to do.
He’s not going to be anything at all, because that’s what my entire life is about. I’m running this motherfucker solo.
I don’t care how many times I try to tell myself otherwise, I’m only playing myself. I’m literally breaking my own heart, because bitch, please.
You can’t count on these motherfuckers for shit.
Oh, you’ll call me later? No, the fuck you won’t.
Oh, I’ll see you Saturday? Sure I will. Let me clear my fucking dayplanner insert, will that do?
Hey, have you seen my latest blah blah blah? Right. When you get time, then.
I’m so 100% sick of being the person always giving a fuck. From this point forward, I’m give a fuckless.
Really, it doesn’t make any sense to continue being someone who actually has feelings. Because do you want to know what people do with those feelings?
Well, as far as I can tell, they rip them into tiny little bite sized pieces and they fucking devour them, right along with your fucking pride and any bit of yourself that you manage to drag out of it, they will fight you in the front yard for it if you hang around long enough.
It’s fucking madness. It’s literal fucking madness.
I can’t even. Like, I wouldn’t even know where to begin, at this point. I’m so over disappointment. I’m so over being last. Like, after you’ve gone everywhere, done everything, seen everyone, then there might be something left for me.
No, no fucking thank you.
Because no matter what you may happen to fucking think, I matter. And I matter more than being last. I matter more than responses that take fucking days, and some half assed attempt at an interest in my life.
I’m better than that. I’m better than that, and I deserve more than that, and I’m not giving anything to anyone who isn’t aware of that from this fucking point forward.
I’m not giving anything to anyone who doesn’t feel like I’m a priority, because they cannot be a priority to me. It’s the absolute last time I’m coming in last.
Knowing what I know about the soul sucking parasites I find myself involved with, waiting to be a priority means I’ll be waiting until the sun dissolves. So, allow me to slip into some fucking SPF and my Prives’, lest I catch a nasty little burn.
I’m over being over it. I’m over thinking that someone is going to be a new type of asshole. Wellllp, turns out, they’re a consistent fucking breed.
That breed is fucking Fuckboy, and I don’t give a fuck, 18 to 80, they’re all the same. A bunch of blah blah blah, and no intention of being anything but exactly that. Some words that don’t add up, and zero fucking substance. You get that? Blah blah blah. Exactly.
Man, fuck these people. Swear on God, you can catch me giving a fuck the next time the Bucs win a bowl game. So, 27 years or so. Otherwise, kiss my pretty ass.
Well... nOt AlL mEN!
😜😂😂
Ok, now that I'm done yanking your leg, I'll hand it back to you while saying I'm sorry you're going through it. It truly does suck hard and deeply.. like a Hoover.(The vacuum or J Edgar 🤔)
Sadly, for us folks who care, it don't work that way.. no matter how bad we want it to, or think we need it to. Trying to shut off the care circuit hurts more than not.. at least for me.
The good news is that you're 100% fuckin awesome as you are, (minor) flaws and all) and we all need to keep reminding our own selves of that fact 'cause ain't no fool gonna do that for us.
Our "flaws" of caring too damn much is exactly what makes us valuable and necessary in this FUBAR world where most folks are out for themselves only.
As a hint.. in my life I've noticed that it always seems to be the Too Damned Pretty ones who are the problem, rather than me. Since Too Damned Pretty is a trait of most fuckbois (and fuckgrls) I'd surmise that we need to be looking at the slightly less pretty folk.
I'm currently testing this posit with my Darling Wife of 10 years, and it seems to be holding up pretty well... Or perhaps my Stoopid luck just finally kicked in and started working when we met, with me at 50.
In any case, you're awesome and I love your heart Lady. Keep that. With your mind, it truly is the very best part!
New Rule: You no longer get to speak to yourself any more harshly than a caring stranger might.
Heal up, and ease up on yourself.*Hugs*
It’s infuriating when people let you down. If enough people let you down, well, generally that’s when apathy sets in. If you’re a person who constantly strives to not let anyone down, it becomes actual pain when it consistently occurs to you. You know are loved 💜