The Tools of Incompetence

I’ve been given an assignment and I would literally rather do anything else on earth.
Eat a human body raw, I don’t know, anything.

Ugh, Drama.

I’m being charged with being *yuck* vulnerable…and honest.
I’d rather get run over by an 18-wheeler instead.
I’d rather not ever, or at least try to not ever, speak to you or anyone else for that matter, ever again.
To be quite frank, sometimes I don’t think that you understand why I take off but you fuck with so many weird ass people in your real life, you just might.

I’m not sure and I don’t care, actually.
That’s not true, I care I’m just used to being an asshole.

After playing whatever mean little psycho games we play for a few months at a time with one another it starts to seem real to my mind. Then I have to get away from you immediately. No contact. Nothing.
It probably doesn’t even hurt you, you probably don’t even notice, I’m not a priority, I know, I know, I know…
The reason for this abrupt departure on my part is that my heart and brain know all too well that its not real between us but my mind and soul is kinda fucked up and they can’t tell so when you get to be too much… I flee.
I’m sure you know this about me at least.
I try really hard not to talk to you during those times and I just cry.

I know, mean-ass me crying is probably not something you’d like to see which at its essence is a part of the fucking problem.
Then, I feel bad for abruptly leaving without saying anything to you and I know you don’t care but I am sorry.
Preface over. This honesty shit is hard as fuck.

So the stupid assignment is to *bleeeeeech* be honest, though right? Fine.

You’re my favorite person.

I’m so sorry about that too. And I don’t even want to terrify you with all the details of that position in my life, especially until I find a replacement but shit is gonna get mighty ugly for me for a while without you.
(This is not really your fault)

I don’t want you to do anything, I just needed to say it. Again probably. What I really want is for you to meet dime breezy Betty Crocker Bible Thumper and go marry her dumb ass and make your grandparents proud and stop being a fucking drug-abusing deviant and live that Norman Rockwell sorta life that comes with looking how you look and being from where you are from.

Associating with me is just you being a rebellious child. I can’t tell you what to do or how to feel, I know that, but when you say shit to me like you love me one minute but then let me know with your other words and actions that your acquaintance with me is taboo or your dirty little secret, I want to fucking vomit at the duality and then I want to shoot things, namely you and myself.
Why am I so attached to you is the question I ask myself hundreds of times a day when I’m off day dreaming about you and I should be brushing my teeth or driving my car, I’m in my mind, reminiscing about your lips or your hands or your smile or your skin or you, just sitting on my sofa, hungry, staring at your fucking phone.

 

It doesn’t even occur to me that those things happened nearly two years ago now.

You “deserve” all of the corny shit you actually want out of this life and I deserve a manservant who actually is mine, wants to be mine, and is as a matter of fact, proud to get to be that for me. It’s always been so hard to get that solid validation from you because, duh I am not your person.
I’m not even human to you, let alone a love interest or a viable anything.

I know, I know I know…

Granted, you’re still my FP for now and it’s torture not talking to you a thousand times a day about all the stupid shit running through my mind but I’m sure I’ll get another one at some point… I’m sure… it’s just….

well, it’s just… super difficult. This feels like a divorce. Don’t think I’m not trying to do better, I am. But I am addicted to your nonsense.

You know how people smoke regular dirt weed when they can’t get good weed just to take the edge off of life? I’m not one of those people.
I only want the good shit, the best shit, or NOTHING.
And to me, you are the best shit.

I don’t think that I can be more honest than that so I’d say my assignment is complete.

And if you want me, find me. If you need me, tell me. If you love me, show me.

MAKE ANY SORT OF FUCKING EFFORT TOWARD ME AND I WILL SWIM OUT TO MEET YOU, DUMMY.

But if I’m right… if my gut is right… if my brain is right…then don’t respond to me.

Let me go. I’ve got homework and work work and soul searching to do anyway.

I miss you.

Goodbye.

2 thoughts on “The Tools of Incompetence

  1. You don’t know me and wouldn’t care to if you did. But I’m proud of you. This is some real shit. I relate to 95% of it. For me, I don’t want things to get better. I want what I want and have known and still miss. Yet I know better. Still, thank you.

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