Pulling myself together…

 

…And so begins a new day.

A day to hold my head high, and thus rescue my pride.

A day to busy my hands, in the hope that my thoughts will busy themselves too.

A day to surround myself with smoke, a coping mechanism.

 

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Deal breaker…

Fury:  A red hot desire to scream your head off while smashing everything that reminds you of the offender into little pieces.

 Heartache:  Trying so hard not to cry, and being unable to help it.

Denial:  Hoping the offender will arrive with a perfectly good explanation that proves their innocence and devotion.

Humiliation:  The wish to hide forever, because everybody probably knew all along how gullible you are.

Dignity:  Desperately trying to control the above emotions so as not to attract sympathy or I-told-ya-so’s.

Fool me once, shame on you…

You finally showed your face today.

After I busted you and you stormed out, and then ignored me for a week,

I was abit impressed you had enough balls to come here today.images (6)

Admittedly, it wasn’t a personal visit,  we needed to do some business,

and business matters must always be kept separate from personal ones…

So, how the fuck did we manage to end up in bed then?

It wasn’t even slightly romantic,  just fast, hard sex.

The exact sort of sex I was needing.

I didn’t intend to look you in the eye at all, I even tried to keep mine shut so I wouldn’t,

but at one stage, I opened them, and accidentally looked straight into your eyes,

and what I saw surprised me. . .

You’ve been missing me.

Afterwards I got straight up and started getting dressed, with my cold shoulder facing you.

That’s when you said it…

“I did not fuck her”

I’m quite certain all busted partners say the same thing, so I ignored it and just carried on being cold to you.

You sat up, and gently grabbed my chin, making me look at you

“I said i didn’t fucken fuck her”.

I am not some gullible moron that gets sucked in easily by bullshit,

but I looked at you as you said that – I looked deeply…

And I believed you.

Uh-oh… that means I’m an asshole!

A jealous, suspicious, assuming asshole!

I’m not usually the jealous type though,

and your behavior WAS  a classic example of guilt…

I’m suddenly not sure about what I think I know at all.

I’m glad you’ve gone now because I need to mull this over in my head, on my own.

I believed what you said,  and i know what I know.

I know that facts can be twisted,  I know that shitstirrers exist.

I also know how very much I WANT to believe you.

I’ll think this through at my own pace,  hell, I’ll even investigate this and that if need be.

My lust for you will make me biased, so give me distance until I reach my verdict.

Please.

In other words,  don’t call me, I’ll call you…

Tit for tat…

I won’t reply to your texts anymore, because you don’t reply to mine.

Yes, I know it’s childish of me.

I’ve told you so many times how much it annoys me when you ignore me though.

Annoys, upsets, and embarrass’s me.

I pride myself on not being needy, and I know I text you bugger all – once a day on average.

So wtf is your problem with replying?

Once in a blue moon, you surprise me by sending ME a text. . .

Today was one of those blue moons.

I chose not to reply – just to show you how it feels.

I admit that I giggled to myself when you text again an hour later, asking if I got your msg.

Image I chose to ignore that one as well.

Do you feel silly texting someone who doesn’t care enough to reply?

Are you wondering what I could be doing that’s more important than replying to you?

Has it crossed your mind that maybe I don’t mean it when I tell you how important you are to me?

Has it occurred to you that I may have had some sort of disaster?

I know how small I feel when you ignore me…

What do you think now?  How do you feel?