Here’s some poignant irony for you – I cannot stop feeling all these feelings for Cris. If I was still doing the drugs, they would kill the feelings. I’m not doing drugs, I am doing feelings and it bloody hurts like hell.
It took me 18 years to get over the first idiot, because I was a bigger idiot, and now I am determined not to be poisoned with hate and rage at Cris’ lies and emotional con (the fucker took me for such a ride!) and to not regret at my own lies and mistakes (because I’m a fucker, too, and I lied to get more drugs and more attention.)
There’s no good guy in this story, and it’s at times like these that I hate being part of this story. Hate it.
Tomorrow is another day. Let’s engage that smile, but make it sincere. Let’s fight the good fight, and feel what’s right.
Cris, you and the pain can have what’s left of today, and you can have yesterday, but I’ll fight you to the death for tomorrow, and all the days to follow – you do NOT have the right to wallow in my conscious and subconscious like this, this is MY life, and I want you out of it, I want you out of my memory, and out of my history.
I will not give you the honour of making me feel shame, I will damn well put on my big girl pants and get over you, and far sooner than that other idiot.
Fuck, I hope this is the last goodbye. I hope this is the last feeling – you let me give you too much time, too much sentiment, too much everything – my energy is for the good people that surround me now, not the good person you said you were…
PLEASE! Stay out of my mind! Keep out of my soul! Leave my heart alone! Don’t make me hate you, I won’t. Just….go away. Leave me – you’ve done so physically, now damned well break the other connects as well – PLEASE! Neither of us can have any peace until you do.
I am so tired of putting on the brave face. I don’t feel brave. I feel tired, and used, and I feel like I shouldn’t finish that sentence.
Go, Cris, just…go.