spilled bong water
6:02 a.m.

E. -

I will never fully recover from this. I will never completely overcome this desperation. But, I'll tell you one thing: someday I will give up. I'll just throw up my hands and resign myself to a life of wishing everyone else in the world could be you. You'll splash my face with one of your casually cruel remarks and it will be cold, and it will wake me up, and I will see you for what you are and have been. I can see it all now, inside of my head, in the place where I keep the things that I hope never happen but which I know probably will: I will pack my bags and I will leave you in a flash, because you never really loved me and you certainly don't now. It's taken me a lot of hard work, and a lot of self-inventory to be able to come to that truthful conclusion. And when I finally did, I was in such pain. The kind of pain that began in the pit of my stomach and radiated outward until my whole body was consumed, racked with sorrow. I remember crying. Sobbing continuously in the bathroom while you lay in your bed and listened, but did not come to comfort me. I knew then that you did not love me, and that I was a fool. What a realization that was. It stopped the tears, but did not ease the ache...and it's still with me to this day. Knowing that I would, could, and have done anything for you that you could possibly ask me to and that could possibly be within my power...knowing how I have adored you, how I have held you in such reverence, how I have cast other people away just to be with you...and then seeing how all of my admiration is treated. Watching myself get taken for granted, watching myself get used and abused, watching myself be under-appreciated...yes, one day I will leave you. And you'll look up after I am gone, and notice that this house is dark and cold, and that you are utterly alone. And won't you wish you'd loved me then?

- D.

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