Your Willing Victim

You obviously don’t care why I’m so mad pissed off at you, but it’s your lucky day and I’m going to fucking tell you.

I walk in, after not seeing you for nigh on a month, and I do get greeted how I expected to be. “Oh wow! What are you doing here? I’m so happy to see you.” You graciously thank me for the gifts I came bearing, lots of hugging and nuzzling, but polite as ever will not kiss me without me making the first move as I don’t think you know how we were standing after our last tiff over text. You warmly listen about how my life is, my experience with graduating, the stress and fear that led up to my commencement, and the like. I ask you for all of your stories of your last grand adventure (to Wyoming. To see your brother. How daring.) Once the stories have been told I beg for more, not only because I genuinely like to know how your life is going, but because who doesn’t like getting to tell their stories with bravado to such a willing audience. You insist there are no more so I simply request you “tell me something that I don’t know.” You respond, with no goading, “I miss you sometimes.” (Remember this, because there’s a different tune to be sung later.)

I try to not let on how incredibly happy that makes me. You actually miss me *swoon*. I haven’t talked to you in about two weeks and hey what do you know. You miss me sometimes. I don’t even care that you threw in that little caveat. It makes me happy ecstatic. You notice and capitalize on that immediately by seducing me, and I, your willing victim, allow you to take me to bed for a romp in the sheets. Trying very hard to change my ways and remembering everything you’ve ever bitchily told me after sex, I don’t touch you and I don’t talk once you’ve reached la petite mort. I simply lie there and wait until you invite me in to cuddle you where you promptly fall asleep, warm and safe. That, of course, doesn’t last long (thank god because you’re a million degrees) and you start kissing my shoulder blades, caressing my rib cage, and entwining your fingers in my hair. Making me, once again, your willing victim to fall into your web. The kissing doesn’t stop and the grabbing becomes more eager as you thrust your way to satisfaction once again. This time the story changes a bit and you clamor your way to the kitchen for hot chocolate. I understand though, I mean hot chocolate, and follow you in expecting to be told to get out of your space and leave you some room, instead I’m pleasantly surprised and get a well-deserved bear hug. Things are going quite well and once again I am left pleasantly surprised.

However, this is where things get interesting. We talk, laugh, generally joke, and have a good time. I’m actually happy I backed off for awhile and am finally getting some interaction time that doesn’t make me wanna run home, put on some Evanescence, and slit my wrists with a rusty nail. Until, “I think I’m tired of company now.” Okay, I have been here for about six hours and you’re used to wallowing in your self pity alone. Okay, I gather my stuff to go only for you to tell me bye and “thanks for the gifts and the okay sex.” Yes you’re laughing, but I cannot tell if your serious. Does it drive me nuts? Yes, so I playfully tackle you and act like I’m gonna make it great right then. Yadda yadda…. I grab my things a final time, give ya a hug (that I had to stand back and let you come to me for because apparently I move too much and too fast and you have obviously transformed into a frightened bird in an atrium) and say goodbye, along with an “I love you.” I wait patiently for you to say it back. I get impatient after you high five me joking about how that must be what I’m waiting for. No. A low five? Fucking no. And you know goddamned well that it isn’t what I’m waiting for. “Are you trying to force me to say it?” Okay. I get where it might seem like I am, but I tell you that I only want you to say it if that’s how you feel. “Okay wanna know how I feel? I’m annoyed with you. Leave before I hate you.” And I, your willing victim, walk out the door. Knowing good and well that I should finally stand up for myself. Finally say what I think I’m beginning to realize is true. I am not the problem. I am a strong individual that is sick of the terrible and inhumane way I am being treated.I do not like the pathetic and insignificant person that you are making me feel like I am. I am ready to show you that I can take care of my fucking self and that I will no longer let you control my life or my happiness. I will not be someone that you think is inferior to you. I will show you why I will succeed while you flounder around and fail in your own pitiful existence. But what do I say? “Okay. I’m sorry for annoying you. Bye” And I calmly shut the door closing off any emotional and rage fueled rant that might have been brewing. I, your willing victim, will wait, impatiently, for you to miss me enough to see me one more time, only to be used and tossed aside just how I’m used to and just how you like it.

My Rock and My Poison

I think this bottle of moscato is trying to tell me something. Something that I’ve been told too many times to count even just tonight, but something I probably will I know I’ll go back to thinking on tomorrow and I’ll have to convince myself to believe it time and time again. But what if I’m not actually the problem? What if I actually am the kind of person that people want to be around. “I don’t see you as a person that I want to be around. We haven’t been close for a long time. Don’t be so dramatic.” Am I dramatic? Fuck yes. However, I can say, with complete confidence, that while I may be groveling, I am not being dramatic in this case. I have made a plethora of new friends this semester. Work, class, Cheddar’s… You name it. And you know what? These people seem like they genuinely want to spend time with me. They laugh at my lame jokes, they hold intelligent conversations with me, they enjoy when I challenge them.  You? You get defensive. Oh she may have a completely valid opinion that I didn’t really think of. If I’m being frank, and let’s be honest, we all know I don’t hold back here, you get threatened. You worry that I’m too much and that I may just be a better person than you. You’ve admitted that while drunk, and we all know the famous quote: “A drunken man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts.” My brother, who interestingly enough just happened to seem to feel that I was upset and called me, put it best. You are afraid of your goddamned feelings. You can’t fucking handle the fact that you might actually have someone you can depend on. Did you have that with your parents? No. Have you really had it with anyone but me? No. I’ve mentioned several times how I know you’re depressed. That not only affects you, but everyone around you. The way you handle it though isn’t some good guy act. You push those that love you away. And I do. I love you more than life itself. You have always been my everything. My rock, but also my poison. I need to let you go as that is clearly your newest wish. You just don’t understand that I can’t. I can’t, I can’t, I just can’t do this. And with that I have already slipped back into the same old routine. The same pain that I cannot seem to shake.

Just Let Me

Today? Today is different. Today I can’t muster up any anger. Nope. Today I finally feel beaten down, defeated. I finally feel all of the shit that you’ve been putting me through. Does this mean I’m done? If I was smart it would, but unfortunately I’m proving to be a glutton for punishment. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. For someone who cares so much about me you have a fucking terrible way of showing it.

But despite all of that. Despite the pain, the fear, and the constant not knowing, I just want you to give me a chance to make you happy. A real chance. Because this bull shit we’re doing now is not giving me a fair chance. Yes I should make you feel good around me always, relationship or not, but it would be a hell of a lot easier if you would just give me a second chance. But right now you tell me that I make you feel like a shitty person? Well then guess what. Maybe you are a fucking shitty person. Do I mean to do that? No. I wish you could know just how much I love you and care for you. All I want is to spend time with you, and make you feel like the most important person in the world, because to me you are. But I will make it know that it upsets me that you don’t want me to make a trip with you, I will tell you that I’m very sad you don’t want me to be with you on your birthday, I will tell you that I feel betrayed and upset, and you better believe that I will make it known that I am unhappy. “But portraying your emotions and telling me how you feel makes you seem not happy and like you can’t control yourself.” No. If I lost control you would damn well know. I’m trying to be honest and forthright with you. I don’t wanna just explode one day or sink into this deep existential depression that you seem so comfortable to wallow in. Do you honestly think it’s me that makes you feel bad? Really? Probably not. It’s probably a culmination of your shitty self-esteem, anxiety, depression, and the fact that you can’t get your life together because you won’t fucking seek anymore help. But that’s not really fair of me to say. I know that asking for help is hard. I do. You sought help once and I am unbelievably proud of you because I know how much it took for you to do that. But now you have to pull it together, realize that they weren’t wrong, and quit blaming me for your problems. I understand that you can’t take care of me until you can take of yourself. I don’t need taken care of. I don’t want to come off as a selfish and self-righteous cunt. I know you have problems and I just want to help. I just want to stop missing you, and for you to let me love you. I’m just asking for another chance to show you all that this can be. If not? Well then I just ask that you don’t focus on the last few months. Also remember the vast amount of time when we were completely happy to just be in each other’s company. Remember. Please. 

“I’m not selfish.”

You are not this fucking stupid. Okay? But in case you hit your head last week I can go ahead and define selfish for you.

Selfish /sel-fish/ adj. 1 devoted to or caring only for oneself; concerned primarily with one’s own interests, benefits, welfare, etc., regardless of others. 2 characterized by or manifesting concern or care only for oneself: selfish motives.

Get it? Good. Now let’s see. You vehemently deny being a selfish person, and in the same fucking breath tell me that the most important thing to you is that you are happy even if it means making someone (i.e. me) unhappy. Let me paraphrase that dictionary entry real quick.

Con-fucking-cerned about your own fucking feelings and brushing everyone else aside.

Do I understand that people need alone time? Yes. Do I understand that people get annoyed with others when they spend an abundant amount of time together? Yes. However, nothing would make me happier than seeing you. Why? I have no fucking clue. You have been such a pompous bastard to me as of late. “I just feel annoyed.” Okay. That happens. Except that I HAVEN’T FUCKING DONE ANYTHING! I haven’t even seen you in a week. I also don’t bother you all damn day because I know you’re busy or you’re about to go to work, or because I don’t exactly feel like being ignored at that moment in time. But apparently my silence is irritating because by the time it’s midnight and I ask if you’d like to hang out with me when you get off work I usually get a “no thank you.” Oh but where are my manners? I’m so rudely accusing you of being such an asshole, but at least you were polite. One goddamn point to you, sir. You make me feel like such a desperate and pathetic bitch for even insinuating that you might deem me worthy enough to be in your damn presence. Not to mention how you make me feel so awful goddamn shitty for bothering you in the first place. No thank you. I’m not offering you fucking peas and carrots. I’m offering my company and my love. The only thing you have to do is sit down and hold a conversation. But apparently that’s just too fucking difficult and strenuous on your fragile psyche. Get the fuck over yourself. 

 

Burnt out?

Yesterday was Cinco de Mayo. What did I do? Oh I went out with some friends, had a couple of cherry vodka sours with the love of my life… Oh, wait. No I didn’t. That was what we planned at lunch. But all of a sudden I am no longer included. Now that’s kind of okay with me. You are quite allowed to have your own friends and go out on your own. If we were to be together that would be fine. It’s healthy even. What isn’t okay is you promising to keep me updated and let me know what’s gonna be happening and then blatantly not. So what did I ask? That you come over and check on me. When you refused to do that I asked for a phone call. You started to reply and then deemed me not important enough to finish out your text. For someone that supposedly cares so much you have a really odd fucking awful way of showing it. You knew that all of my plans had fallen through. You knew that more than anything I wanted to hang out with you. What did you do? Ignored me until eight o’clock the next evening. I politely offer to make you lunch and then dinner. I’m not feeling it. I don’t wanna hang out. I don’t wanna see you. I want to be alone. Fuck. That. What gives you the right to decide everything? Why is everything done on your whim? What did we do Sunday? Oh that’s right. You weren’t feeling well so I went out, bought medicine and powerade, prepared you some dinner, and then let you ravish my body. You fell asleep for four hours and then when you woke up you politely asked me to leave. Did that hurt? Yeah, but I did because I knew you didn’t feel well. 

You keep getting “burnt out” on me. This isn’t my fault. You may have altered my way of thinking. Made me think I’m not good enough for you. But this is something I know. You got upset Monday after lunch because I wanted a kiss goodbye. Not only is this not out of the ordinary, but I kinda think I deserve to get some of what I want. Maybe I texted you too much while you were out? 1. I had no idea you were out yet. I thought you were waiting at home to hear about plans. 2. I was in a panic. You may remember I got attacked last Wednesday? Yeah. I needed some comfort. Thanks for nothing, baby asshole. Do you see me a lot? Yes. And alone time is healthy and fine, but it isn’t fair that you only call on me when you need something. Sometimes I need comfort or company. I do appreciate the time that I get. I sound ungrateful. I do love that now you hang out and see me not because you feel that you have to, but because you want to. HOWEVER, even in this weird relationship that we are currently in, I expect some give and take. You can suck it up and come see me when I feel like I need it, just like I suck it up and accept that you don’t always want to be in my company. But will anything change? No. Because you are one to always get your way while I’m stuck out in the cold. 

A Weekend Wasted

No. Just no. You walk into my house, eat my food, make love to me fuck me in my bed and then five minutes later decide to walk out my door? “But I want to make memories with my friends. I consider you my best friend, but sometimes I want to hang out without you.” Fuck that and fuck you. What did you do yesterday? “Oh I’m gonna hang out with the boys, and I’ll come over in a few hours. I’ll be sure to keep you updated.” SIX FUCKING AM: “Still up?” You know what? Yeah, I’m up. Because I made plans with you and I was going to be damn sure to follow them through. Oh you’re in no condition to drive? Sure I’ll come to you. Oh you’re ready for bed at 8 AM? Sure. We can have sex and then you can hold me. And of course because it all feels so right in your arms I’m going to forgive you. I’m going to say that everything is okay. I’m going to let you put me through all of this shit once again. The insecurity. The fear. The loneliness. The crippling anxiety. And most of all the fucking heart wrenching pain.

I’m not mad that you want to see your friends. I’m not mad when you need alone time. The thing is you left five minutes after fucking me and then they finally arrived two hours later. Not even that though. I enjoy their company, and I could use a break from being alone every now and then. What do I ask for? I ask for some time to enjoy some people who’s company doesn’t bore me, who don’t ask anything from me, who I don’t feel the need to impress, and who genuinely seem to like spending some time with me. You? You’re too busy being selfish and looking out for you. Oh I make them laugh? They think I’m great? Can’t have that now can we. Nope. You enjoy being the belle of the ball, sweetheart.

This Cannot Be Happening

I love you. I’m starting to get the vibe that you broke my coffee table to see how I would handle having my heart broken. I’ll just say not well. It’s really quite hard because I care so much and I know you do to. I don’t want this. I feel like we have so much going for us, but I don’t want to push you into something you don’t want and for you to end up resenting me for it. In the end I just really want you to be happy. I just hope it is with me. I feel like you have a lot of stuff to work out. Should you do that and reevaluate how you feel and maybe figure out I am not a deterrent to happiness but a helpful figure in it than maybe this is not the end. In case you were curious, as broken as I feel I don’t regret it all. The love and experiences I have shared with you trump the heartache. I do wish I had some more time with you simply because I love you and care so much. I hope you can find yourself and find that you still want me. You have just been such a huge factor and piece of my life and I’m not ready to let you go, in fact I don’t know if I ever will be. You always said that I would be the one finished with you first. Unfortunately I guess that isn’t true. Just try to remember that “happiness only real when shared.” -Chris McCandless

Love from your Bug