F* Me





Dammit.  Fuck.

I still like you.  I can't stop thinking about you.  And I hate everything.

Especially this.

I don't get you, and you make me hurt, and make me long...and make me angry.  Because you hide in the most hurtful of ways, saying nothing.

And yet, tease.

Are you just...that...mean?

I hate the fact that like any stupid girl, the fact that it's Valentine's Day makes it worse.  This never happened to me before.  When other (single) girls pined, I was fine.  Thought they were silly.

Not today.

Not this time.

I have not felt this...since her.

It hurts like cruelty.  Choking, mad, laughing cruelty, sitting within and squeezing my heart.


Fuck.

Burn me.



*more in comments





- KtL at 2/14/2011 02:31:00 am

1 comment:

  1. KtL14 February 2011 at 02:46:00 GMT

    A note:

    What is it? About her?

    It's the heart-stopping sensitivity and gentleness of sensibility. I long for it. I never see this, though I've watched and have waited, eyes open, and looked. Longed for, I think, all of my life. It kills me. It also breathes life into my lungs, into my spirit. It makes my throat clench and my jaw ache. It makes my heart rush to overflowing until it spills, in pain, out of my eyes.

    I can't live beside it, and not within it. Too hard. Too much ache. The tears would never abate.

    There is a scene from LOTR that springs to mind; comes over and over.

    It is Galadriel, when in the throes of the effect of the One Ring: "All shall love me and despair."

    Indeed.

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