You guys are so sweet.
Seriously, I'm fine. I'm not depressed - I swear. I'm more just pissed off at myself.
I told myself after the BigGuy I wasn't going to let someone take advantage of me again. I chalk the BigGuy up to being young, and comfortable. I put up with lots, because I thought that was what you did in a relationship. I swore I wouldn't be so naive again.
And here we are.. I was in a relationship with a dude who didn't want to be in a relationship. I should've been able to see through the sweet smile, strange connection, understanding and compliments. My inner voice screamed at me not to get involved with him at the beginning, "if its too good to be true.. It is!" But I hushed it, told it I knew what I was doing. When he got the new place, and I helped him fucking tear it down, build it up, paint it... the inner voice stayed silent, but it should've spoke up and reminded me that I was only serving a purpose. For now, not forever. Why did I go back to him? To the cottage? Why did I let him suck me back in? That's what I'm pissed at, I effn knew better.
But I'm good, I don't need to speak to anyone; all though - a therapist would be able to retire off the proceeds from my life story... // Side Note: Every time I type 'Therapist' I spell it out in my head as "The Rapist" a la SNL //
Anyways. I have bad days where I miss the fuck out of him, and better days where i'm so pissed off I want to chop his arm off with a lightsabre. Point is, I don't talk about it. I write about it.
Honest. I'm fine. <3
Seriously, I'm fine. I'm not depressed - I swear. I'm more just pissed off at myself.
I told myself after the BigGuy I wasn't going to let someone take advantage of me again. I chalk the BigGuy up to being young, and comfortable. I put up with lots, because I thought that was what you did in a relationship. I swore I wouldn't be so naive again.
And here we are.. I was in a relationship with a dude who didn't want to be in a relationship. I should've been able to see through the sweet smile, strange connection, understanding and compliments. My inner voice screamed at me not to get involved with him at the beginning, "if its too good to be true.. It is!" But I hushed it, told it I knew what I was doing. When he got the new place, and I helped him fucking tear it down, build it up, paint it... the inner voice stayed silent, but it should've spoke up and reminded me that I was only serving a purpose. For now, not forever. Why did I go back to him? To the cottage? Why did I let him suck me back in? That's what I'm pissed at, I effn knew better.
But I'm good, I don't need to speak to anyone; all though - a therapist would be able to retire off the proceeds from my life story... // Side Note: Every time I type 'Therapist' I spell it out in my head as "The Rapist" a la SNL //
Anyways. I have bad days where I miss the fuck out of him, and better days where i'm so pissed off I want to chop his arm off with a lightsabre. Point is, I don't talk about it. I write about it.
Honest. I'm fine. <3