I started writing this, thinking it was going to be a song or a poem. But there’s nothing romantic or poetic about it. There is nothing artistic, or emotionally charged riding on these words. The only feeling is anger, hurt and my new reminder that I have stretched out my hand towards the fire that kept me warm – only to learn the lesson of burnt skin all over again.
I used to think I was like a beaten puppy, used to the abuse yet wagging my tail at the slightest sign of affections thrown my way. However, I am not. I am merely an idiot. Animals have no rational thoughts, they don’t willingly choose to ignore the warning signs of another catastrophe heading their way. Dogs are dogs. I, am an imbecile.
People often tell me that this is my greatest downfall. That I trust and love easily, without reservations. That I shouldn’t be this way, and it’s my own fault because I carry my feelings in my sleeve. My heart in my hand. Ready to give it freely. Never asking for much in return, except the same courtesy. Someone taking their time to care about me the same way. Someone to think of me when a song comes on the radio, and have the urge to text me to say “Hey, I’m thinking of you”. Why do *I* always have to make the first move? All of a sudden I say the first word, or show affection first and people THEN come back with OH YEAH OMGZ ME TOO!!11! You say “heyy! I missed you!!” and mean it, they say they miss you too as an obligation. Because they know they should be nice back. Spare me.
I am tired of chasing. Of caring. Of never learning. I’m tired of planning my life around others, which is only a sign of more stupidity on my behalf. How come I count the minutes to spend time with people, at the same time they’re counting minutes until happy hour or some other idiotic, irrelevant, NEVER changing event? People grow old and die. Objects, hobbies…those will be there forever. I rather spend my time…you know what? I don’t have to even GO into that right now. You all know how I am. I am the rock. I am always here. Even when I’m broken, I hide that part of me and I. AM. HERE.
Can you say the same? Didn’t think so. Thanks to the few of you who are there. It’s easy to be around when I’m just giving you an ego boost, making you the center of my universe. But when I need you to pick me up and cradle me? Gosh, you’re just too busy aren’t you.
RANT. OVER. I’ll be in my car, having air for lunch and crying over spilled milk. I feel used. But it's all my fault, because it's always just in my head.
"Such a silly little whore, with dreams of being a goddess. Go ahead, leave you're money on the table."
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