He had the nerve to tell me how I live my life- I don't see him anymore and we no longer talk to eachother regularly. In my mental he no longer exists, yet he believes he knows the happenings of my life. Upon hearing this, I wanted to take down a quick shot of purple haze and laugh relentlessly in this fool's face.
I twisted into a calypso of characters- Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (good versus evil). On one hand I wanted to snatch the nose off his face and on the other I wanted to shout in triumph at the fact that I could actually get him to argue with me- I relished at the thought that I could still control part of his temper.
We argued over the idea that I began dating someone new shortly after old boy and I broke up- it was not my fault we split. He's crazy. I'm not seeing anyone currently. But yet he presses the fact that he knows all about my "rendezvous." I don't even like that word. I hate the fact that someone would even dare to consider themselves knowledgeable to the ongoings of my personal life when I haven't spoken to them in regards to any of that matter.
For a while I became high off the action of us arguing thru text. I felt a new love towards him, like fresh blood restored to the veins of a sickened individual. While we argued I began to love. With each curse of his name, I reminisced on an event that I once considered priceless- while we argued my passion for him peaked. I yearned to be his girl again. And after 30 minutes of spiteful, sexually repressed texts- we stopped. And my idea of him turned into disgust. At the way he had treated me... at the things he had said. I return to life as normal, I drop him from my thoughts. And he is no longer a love in my life, but merely a cut across the heart. I sew. And so this wound will be stitched.
0 comments:
Post a Comment