Why did you do it?
The suffering musician, the lonely suffering soul. You sat there in your cocoon, fighting hard to keep everyone out. No. Excuse me. Fighting hard to keep everyone that cares insanely about you and loves you out. Woe is you right? You who have been dealt such a hard card in life, with your guitar and your writing as the only things keeping you company on cold nights. Grow up. Just because you're sick it doesn't mean you have the right to treat others like you do. It doesn't give you the right to assume you will face the rest of your life and what happens in it alone.
You took for granted that I cared, nay, loved you with all my heart. That I would've been there until your end, or mine. I wouldn't have cared what I would've had to do to make sure that you were always comfortable and had everything you needed. That's not something you could've asked from any one. Yet I offered it freely, asking only in return that you would never stop making me feel the way you did. That you came through with your promises. The worst part? You knew what I had been through already. You knew that I was only enjoying spending time with you because we'd play guitar and talk about music endlessly. You were my best friend, that's all I wanted. So why did you cross that line? Why did you start with the romantic one liners, and the promises of running away and leaving all behind? I didn't ask for that. Yet there you were, spewing a romance novel out and poetry like you were freaking Shakespeare.
I hate that you acted like what we had never existed. That you made me feel like I made it all up in my head, like some stupid 15 yr old with her first crush. Like I didn't still have the emails with your promises or the voicemails and text messages declaring your love. Get over yourself. I wonder, though, do you tell her the same things? Do you play a song and say 'This is for you, beautiful' like some Casanova with a guitar? Do you send her emails during the day saying you wish you were outside her window, throwing rocks to wake her up in the middle of the night and take off to the ocean? Does she know you hate mushrooms and love mashed potatoes? Every other useless thing about your life you shared with me, to show me that you wanted us to be close? Of course she does. That's how you play.
I should've listened when they told me you had a pattern, and I was just another cycle. But thank you for this:
For singing to me on the phone until I fell asleep. For learning to play new music I liked. For the letters I got on the mail, which meant more to me than just a typed up email. For making me feel talented and beautiful, and learning Spanish in order to read my poetry. For sharing part of your life that not many knew, or at least, not our mutual friends. Thank you for the Baboon plush you got me, and for it being appropriate and perfect. Thank you, for inspiring me to commit a felony in a national park just so I could get you something nice. For the little bursts of love, thank you.
Thank you for not even being my friend now. Which is all I ever wanted from you in the beginning. Hope you have a long, long, long life.
But I will end this, the same way. Every hurt you caused, made me scratch off your name from my heart. You will never find another me. Ever. Good luck. Try to be happy. I am in a better place, now that I've dealt with you. I won't go down the same road again. I win.
Song: "Wasted" by Brandi Carlisle
The suffering musician, the lonely suffering soul. You sat there in your cocoon, fighting hard to keep everyone out. No. Excuse me. Fighting hard to keep everyone that cares insanely about you and loves you out. Woe is you right? You who have been dealt such a hard card in life, with your guitar and your writing as the only things keeping you company on cold nights. Grow up. Just because you're sick it doesn't mean you have the right to treat others like you do. It doesn't give you the right to assume you will face the rest of your life and what happens in it alone.
You took for granted that I cared, nay, loved you with all my heart. That I would've been there until your end, or mine. I wouldn't have cared what I would've had to do to make sure that you were always comfortable and had everything you needed. That's not something you could've asked from any one. Yet I offered it freely, asking only in return that you would never stop making me feel the way you did. That you came through with your promises. The worst part? You knew what I had been through already. You knew that I was only enjoying spending time with you because we'd play guitar and talk about music endlessly. You were my best friend, that's all I wanted. So why did you cross that line? Why did you start with the romantic one liners, and the promises of running away and leaving all behind? I didn't ask for that. Yet there you were, spewing a romance novel out and poetry like you were freaking Shakespeare.
I hate that you acted like what we had never existed. That you made me feel like I made it all up in my head, like some stupid 15 yr old with her first crush. Like I didn't still have the emails with your promises or the voicemails and text messages declaring your love. Get over yourself. I wonder, though, do you tell her the same things? Do you play a song and say 'This is for you, beautiful' like some Casanova with a guitar? Do you send her emails during the day saying you wish you were outside her window, throwing rocks to wake her up in the middle of the night and take off to the ocean? Does she know you hate mushrooms and love mashed potatoes? Every other useless thing about your life you shared with me, to show me that you wanted us to be close? Of course she does. That's how you play.
I should've listened when they told me you had a pattern, and I was just another cycle. But thank you for this:
For singing to me on the phone until I fell asleep. For learning to play new music I liked. For the letters I got on the mail, which meant more to me than just a typed up email. For making me feel talented and beautiful, and learning Spanish in order to read my poetry. For sharing part of your life that not many knew, or at least, not our mutual friends. Thank you for the Baboon plush you got me, and for it being appropriate and perfect. Thank you, for inspiring me to commit a felony in a national park just so I could get you something nice. For the little bursts of love, thank you.
Thank you for not even being my friend now. Which is all I ever wanted from you in the beginning. Hope you have a long, long, long life.
But I will end this, the same way. Every hurt you caused, made me scratch off your name from my heart. You will never find another me. Ever. Good luck. Try to be happy. I am in a better place, now that I've dealt with you. I won't go down the same road again. I win.
Song: "Wasted" by Brandi Carlisle
~hugs and kisses. You're doing good, Twinilicious <3
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