Can’t just slap me with empty words than think you said enough to fill me.

Can’t just make a pinky promise then forget the sacred knot we made.

You can not just be an asshole and think a simple Snapchat or a text message every blue moon will make me forget the former.

You can’t just make me feel everything one second and then nothing the next and expect me to not ask what we are when you can’t even make up your mind on which day of the week you’re going to look at me like damn near the best thing that could have ever happened to you.

Could.

Have.

(Operative words)

Because,

no.

No more. I have too much of a darken heart to give you the only pink part of it; I’d be an idiot. (Remember the girl in the tumultuous relationship?) No one likes a repeater.

Can’t just keep taking shit from people because “at least it’s something.”

Can’t keep spending my happy days with despairing night writing in a blog, that I hope to God, you don’t read and cry and listen to Pandora, and write more and debate breaking out the good pills because Lord let me tell you there have been nights at 2 in the morning when I wake up thinking of you and I’m so far gone this pathetic process is the only thing that brings my head back into a space that I can call relatively sane and breathe….

In.

Out.

Can’t keep making excuses and I can’t keep believing in a lie I tell myself to make you the good guy in my story.

I’m taking my story back; I’m sorry.

x.

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