In hindsight, I think she's just emotionally immature. Or afraid of commitment? She needs to learn a thing or two about making relationships work - she didn't try talk it out with me, or give it a second chance. She just gave up.
Sunday 20 January 2013
Friday 11 January 2013
Break up
It's called a break-up because something is broken.
She treated you like shit, blew you off, denied yous ex.
She used you.
Long distance was a convenience for her, you were a patsy.
You'll meet someone shinier.
She treated you like shit, blew you off, denied yous ex.
She used you.
Long distance was a convenience for her, you were a patsy.
You'll meet someone shinier.
Thursday 10 January 2013
What becomes of the broken hearted?
Was it my constantly cold hands? Was it my shitty old phone? Was it that I caused us to miss a flight, and nearly miss another? Was it because I didn't like you smoking, and told you so? Was it my terrible puns and awful jokes? Was I too sweet, too eager, too nice, too jokey, too playful? Was it because I wasn't very close to my family? You're preternaturally close to yours. Was it because I don't have a car? Do I just not fit into your plans? Did I ever?
You can sing, and cook, and I can do neither of those things. You can name a million different plants, and I cannot. I thought you could teach me these things. I could help you learn computers, and take you out cycling. I never had a chance to take you out dancing. To bring you to the cinema. To watch a DVD on my couch. We endured so much for so long. I thought this was what we were looking forward to, what we were aiming for. I view our relationship as like a flower. Our first couple of dates was the planting. The long-distance months were the careful nurturing - watering and feeding. Now you're home, the green shoots were showing, and soon we blossom. It's what kept me going, knowing you'd be home soon, that we'd be in the same city, that things would get better. Things would be normal. The plant would flower. But instead you're cutting it down before it had a chance.
We're finally together, can't you give that a chance? You talked it out with your sister, why don't you talk it out with me? I don't understand how you can be so cold about it. I feel so fucking used. I was the sucker that would tide you over until you got home, the loser who would make the effort to go to Edinburgh, like a fucking puppy, following you around, and I didn't see that you were stringing me along. I don't think you realised you were doing it though. Fuck. Why couldn't you have ended it sooner? Before Christmas, before New Year's. Why would you invite me to your house for Christmas if you felt this way? And if you didn't feel it then, how can you make a decision after a day of thinking that throws away nine months. Nine months wasted. Rendered null. Void.
You're home now, you don't need me. The fool who spent eight months shuttling between cities, between countries. Your friends and your family are around you now, what room is there for me? I thought you were coming home to me, not to be away from me.
I can't believe I bought new shoes, and brought you a rose. Got a haircut, shaved in work, just to be extra smooth. Offered to cook for you. You met my Granny. I told you my PIN number. These are the little things that helped me realise how much you were a part of my life, even though we lived in different countries.
Let's start over. We said it was going to be difficult, this adjustment period. Are you afraid of committing? Scared that it might be hard? We can get through this.
You can sing, and cook, and I can do neither of those things. You can name a million different plants, and I cannot. I thought you could teach me these things. I could help you learn computers, and take you out cycling. I never had a chance to take you out dancing. To bring you to the cinema. To watch a DVD on my couch. We endured so much for so long. I thought this was what we were looking forward to, what we were aiming for. I view our relationship as like a flower. Our first couple of dates was the planting. The long-distance months were the careful nurturing - watering and feeding. Now you're home, the green shoots were showing, and soon we blossom. It's what kept me going, knowing you'd be home soon, that we'd be in the same city, that things would get better. Things would be normal. The plant would flower. But instead you're cutting it down before it had a chance.
We're finally together, can't you give that a chance? You talked it out with your sister, why don't you talk it out with me? I don't understand how you can be so cold about it. I feel so fucking used. I was the sucker that would tide you over until you got home, the loser who would make the effort to go to Edinburgh, like a fucking puppy, following you around, and I didn't see that you were stringing me along. I don't think you realised you were doing it though. Fuck. Why couldn't you have ended it sooner? Before Christmas, before New Year's. Why would you invite me to your house for Christmas if you felt this way? And if you didn't feel it then, how can you make a decision after a day of thinking that throws away nine months. Nine months wasted. Rendered null. Void.
You're home now, you don't need me. The fool who spent eight months shuttling between cities, between countries. Your friends and your family are around you now, what room is there for me? I thought you were coming home to me, not to be away from me.
I can't believe I bought new shoes, and brought you a rose. Got a haircut, shaved in work, just to be extra smooth. Offered to cook for you. You met my Granny. I told you my PIN number. These are the little things that helped me realise how much you were a part of my life, even though we lived in different countries.
Let's start over. We said it was going to be difficult, this adjustment period. Are you afraid of committing? Scared that it might be hard? We can get through this.
Monday 7 January 2013
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