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She felt numb with self-rage.
Once again, she fell into ancient patterns of begging and pleading for the absent daddy to come back. to love her even though she'd been "bad".
It hurt so much to realize how grasping and pathetic really.
But what does pain do?
Makes you retreat
Makes you scream
Makes you beg
The hilarious bitter part was she realized she might have jumped to so many conclusions because she too thought she already knew the narrative:
"ah! at last - you've figured out that you don't want me. You don't get to win because I always knew you would do this anyway."
So sad. What a pyre-rich victory indeed.
So the new year.
She used it all the time as January and February were traditionally the fucking hell months for her. So wheeeee (said tiredly) a new leaf. A new book. A new chapter.
She deleted the fucking app yet again. Even though she'd found some bloke from Macon to kill time with - it was just mean though "you're not him. I am using you."
Don't we use them all though? Wasn't she used?
Distract me from my loneliness that I won't admit I have.
And a new day. She would soon have the work smile to don.
She had written him again yesterday. She had begged him again. She had even been tricky and memorized his phone number - it was easy as the pneumonic devices flowed.
But it broke her.
This grabbing onto a dick
Having Hands pried off of it forcibly
It was - she was telling you - a repeat of
old wounds.
Knowing it didn't matter a bit.
It just made it sadder.
Maybe he was doing the same thing to her.
"Shut up. I'll never listen."
She had made a mistake.
It wasn't the first time.
She would make a shit load more in the future - maybe this is one even.
Soon, there would be grass to cut.
The big flock of black big birds flew over - making shadows in the sunlight.
None of it mattered.
She just wanted ...
"you're not getting what you want."
Happy New Year.
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