Sunday, 3 November 2013

A Letter Not To You (Part Two)

Sometimes I really hate you. You're so fucking perfect, yet you're blind to how much you affect me. Can't you see that since we got together - no, since BEFORE we got together - I've been a complete mess in front of you? You break and mend me all at the same time when we are together, and when we are apart you just hurt me. And what makes it even more painful is the fact that you don't even seem to realise what you're doing to me. I have been reduced to the most needy creature in the world, and it's disgusting. I think of you every second of every day; I wait in anticipation for the text you never send and the call you never make. I have to restrain myself from bombarding you with more messages when you don't reply straight away, and I just hate how I am now that you're in my life again.

I don't understand this effect you have on me. I was always so laid back about relationships and wondering why the guys I dated were always so clingy and unable to allow me to be myself. And then you came along and my world came crashing down around my ears. You never contact me; I feel like I'm making all the effort in this relationship as we so call it. You make me feel desperate and needy for your love and I can't stand being like this. It's not the way I'm supposed to be. I'm supposed to be the selfish bitch who has no heart and now you've caged it like it's one of your pets. Sometimes you don't reply to me at all and I find myself in a mental war with my brain and that stupid fucking organ that signifies love:

"Should I text her again?"

"No, you've texted her already. She'll reply when she's not busy."

"But that was over six hours ago. Should I Facebook her?"

"No, she'll reply. Stop seeming so bloody desperate. Pull yourself together!"

"But she isn't replying!"

Don't you understand? I'm not like those other idiots, yet here I am acting as if I am, all the time. You're the first thing I think about in the morning, and the last thing I think about at night. It is torture, a torture that you're either too blind or too self absorbed to notice.

I apologise - I know you're not self absorbed. You care so much about your friends. Well...all your friends except for me. We were friends once, babe, remember? We were friends and then we became more than friends, and although that all sounds so simple and hunky-dory, it's not. It's really...really not. Because although I know we are "more than friends"...although I know we are in a relationship...sometimes it just feels as though I'm nothing to you. It feels like you don't care.

Maybe I'm being melodramatic. Perhaps. But that doesn't magically stop what I'm feeling. I am constantly torn between kissing you and breaking up with you, but I know for certain that I love you.

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