Love, Pain, The Whole Damn Thing

Sometimes the memories overpower me - my resolve fades and I let myself dwell, if only for a second. I refuse to think about you because by doing so, I give credit to who you're not. The memories I have of you don't do you justice - that's not who you are. You're not kind or passionate, you don't actually give a shit about me. But I'll give you this - you're quite the actor.

I see how she is with you - enamored and floating, so completely unaware. I want to warn her, to expose you as the masked stranger you are - confused and self-obsessed, blind and velvetly convincing. The only reason I don't?

I refuse to be the girl who plays that game.
I refuse to give you the chance to explain and justify yourself.
I refuse to reveal to you who you really are.
I refuse to make self-discovery that easy and painless for you.

I want to see the look on your face when you finally take a long look in the mirror and can't stand what you see.

So go ahead and mime your way through another relationship. Take another heart, take another risk, take another step towards what will surely be yet another damaging collision of reality and fantasy.

Take another step back from me.

I see through you. I see through your thinly veiled apologies and smiling betrayals.
We're not friends. We're not okay.

I am. But we're not.
_