Nah, it’s not fun to be the only one up thinking “Where the fuck did I fuck up?” The question is a good one, one that’s cathartic. But, fun it is not.
You know the “How are you?” is never coming. Ever. You also know that you’re the last resort, once all other options have been consummated. Quite literally.
This quote scrolled by the other day “Where do broken hearts go? Back to the best friend.” So cute. Hogwash, I say. Broken hearts go back to the last resort.
Being kind, being accepting, being accommodating, the whole shebang, it is all good. However, not when you compromise on your beliefs.
Had you been that important, you wouldn’t have had to wait. If you were, you both would battle each other to put forth your best versions.
Silence hurts. You know what else hurts? The fact that they know how much they mean to you, and yet show indifference. That air of superiority, well that too.
When the regulars disappear and all support is gone, the call comes. “Oh, I missed you. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how you’d react.” That’s the time to say....
Sorry babe, your tricks have gotten old, clichéd. Show me what’s new, else it’s time to find new shade. I saw enough behind the façade. And all the moves you made.
Trust not the words. Watch if things are the same. Both when it’s time to make hay, and when dark clouds come thy way. If not, turn around and run the FUCK away.
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