There will never be any pictures of them.
She is selfish. She wants him to fall.
She wants to be wanted to know that someone could love her again.
She feels unloveable.
She feels lonely.
She told him she doesn’t believe in love.
She doesn’t believe anyone will love HER, especially him.
She knows he won’t love her.
She knows she will probably forget his name soon.
It’s all games and twisted words and no matter how well she thinks she plays and how cool she makes it seem, he always wins.
I suppose she lets him.
But it’s so easy when he’s like a perfect warm river lying beside her.
It’s so easy to let the compliments slip out of her mouth and onto the pillows when he always sits so very still.
Is he ever not in control?
She’s seen his vulnerability, but he won’t look her in the eye.
She avoids eye contact with him.
She can’t bear to let him see the storm raging inside her.
But she laughs and smiles and locks her fingers in his for as long as he’ll let her.
She likes when she can feel his satisfaction and sweet release. It’s the one time she knows that he needs her.
She likes the way his weight feels on her.
She almost told him once, but he would have taken it the wrong way.
She doesn’t love him. She’ll never love him.
But she said no words and constantly worried that her hair was tangled and her belly was too fat and she was ugly. He never compliments her.
She needs to hear something nice or she is letting go of this.
She knows he lies to her.
Just like she lies to him about how many men have been beside her since he left.
How she wishes she actually knew him in some way that’s real.
She doesn’t even know if she makes him laugh.
What does he think is funny?
Who does he think she is?
Why does it matter?
The last time she saw him, she was a ball of twisted knots in wretched agony, afraid to move for fear of letting one piece of him touch her.
That was the last time she will ever see him. At least she left a note.
Even though she doesn’t love him, she wants him to feel empty without her, just for a moment.
She knows it’s wrong but she can’t help it.
Or maybe she just wants to know if she can make him feel anything at all.
I have nothing to say when I’m sober. I don’t ask for one bit of help. I have a few drinks and it’s like you gave me a shot of Sodium thiopental.
GROW UP, me.
You’re embarrassing and stupid.
There’s this guy I don’t really know but I “met” him through Vine. He and his crew are all really hilarious and their vids always make me laugh. They lost a close friend of theirs a month or so ago, and when they tagged on Instagram, I looked. It’s really weird because there are all these pics of this cute guy having beers, hanging out, being funny and posting lyrics to songs he liked about 10 weeks ago. This guy had an iPhone and a life and friends and he had stuff to say. Now he’s just gone. It’s too fucking sad for words, and I never even knew him.
I’m home after a long day in which I wasn’t scheduled to work, but someone called out. Hours are hours, so I went to work and stuff. Last night I kept waking up because Bianca was going ape-shit for no reason whatsoever. I know, fellow cat-lovers, “cats are nocturnal”, you say condescendingly to your computer screen or iPhone. But Bianca is NOT. She does not move unless absolutely necessary. We thought she had no vocal cords for years until someone stepped on her tail and she wailed like a banshee. Before that, she would meow like those creepy mute street performers, her kitty lips opening to make the sound by nothing coming out. This is where that story abruptly ends.
Today was long and short and I’m tired. But I can’t sleep. It’s like residual insomnia left over from last night, except way more annoying. I took my night time pills, I took 2 Ambien. I’m about to take to the bottle. I can’t deal with the weird thoughts Ambien puts in your head if you’re awake. I don’t get a funky cool high effect.
PS- I really miss my best friend. I miss having someone to call or text randomly at this time of night because I’m weirded out but all I want to do is giggle. I had some people I could do that with once upon a time. It’s my fault they aren’t there anymore, I just wish they were. Why does the one person who understands me and makes everything better have to live across the world?!
Anyway, here’s to you in Ibiza, Beebs. Another summer without you will be so weiner. LOVE YOU MORE THAN ALL THE BUTTS EVER.