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Not that this is going to be any good - just another dirge.
She looks like an Oompa Loompa now - walking through her house with the red and white wearable blanket. The heat was on, and the walking man was making his laps around her house.
The boring dreams had been about being an outsider again. Yawn.
She made mushroomed scalloped truffle potatoes from Aldi's for breakfast and remembered how much she despised the hint of a taste of truffle oil. Oh well.
And berating herself. She was the one who had often always and adamantly said: I just want someone who I know loves me and then I can go to South Africa and look out into the ocean while he's in San Francisco and know that it's all good.
She had failed in the most basic way. She had failed at not caring - or in caring too much. was there a difference.
Last night, she had texted him yet again and hoped please god it would be the last time she debased herself "please remember me."
"He doesn't love you. you're trying too hard. He doesn't love you, and you're no bard."
Narcissi had a very very very hard time remembering that she had been just a plaything discarded when the doll named betsy wetsy wet on him. She tried very very hard not to get self-flagellating as always.
It sucked to to the opposite of them. She so fucking wished she was like her sister - "tell him you've fallen in love with someone else and quit returning his calls, he'll come running sis."
She ignored this advice. Her advice on "the best way to get over a man is under a new one" had lead to the fucking disastrous marriage number two.
So, narcissi was an anxious attached insecure lover. She tried very hard to be intelligent about it. She still loved the bicoastal idea of love, it was just that what she needed must be very very hard. She needed someone to seem and really evident-based exhibit that he loved her. This one. He had...
the signs were so faint that she barely could even say them without being humiliated. He had helped her with her money, he had sharpened her knives, the rice cup, the Roku... but she had watched him like five thousand hawks because she cared like it was the most precious thing in her life. She was the daughter of a monster, so she was not going to play into a monster's hands again.
And he exhibited none of it. He had not been into her. There was no longing and wondering and delayed "wow, she was quite a fascinating unique encounter."
It was more disdain, and who enjoys being disdained.
so, she'll have nancy's daisy and the rainbow prism and the Manuel Alvarez Bravo and the Marriott key card around her while she wrote; but all these would now be reminders:
never give your heart.
they don't want it.
the steelers had actually lost last night. she had a talent for picking losing propositions.
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