Let it Go
Title: Let it Go
Genre: drama, monologue
Date: 04/05/05
Summary: You let it go. You always let it go. Until…
Disclaimer: Mine.
Let it Go
It starts off small… it always starts off small. The call comes a half hour or so late, the car pulls up two or three hours after your hair’s been done. But then, slowly, but surely, it all evolves. The phone doesn’t ring or the doorbell doesn’t buzz or maybe the car horn doesn’t honk. Plans are forgotten, or maybe just thrown to the side. Time is spent with someone else. It’s the small things… and even though they’re small, and even though you forgive him over and over again, you don’t forget them. You don’t forget how much they hurt you… he hurt you. You don’t forget the tears you cried. You don’t forget how many times you made yourself sick over just the thought of him. You don’t forget how many times he claimed to not understand what you were talking about, how many times he played stupid or lied his way out. You don’t forget how you thought you meant something… and you never, ever forget how it felt when you found out that you never meant anything. At all.
Time after time again, you let everything go. You forgave. Forgiveness is your weakness. You’ve got the weakest will known to man. You can’t be mad at him, he has too much power. He’s always had too much power. And he always took it for granted. Of course, you never admitted that. You couldn’t. It was just something you couldn’t come to terms with. You didn’t want to come to terms with it.
When he’d fall asleep before he called, you let it go. He must’ve been tired…
When he lost track of time and had to reschedule your plans, you let it go. He’s human, he makes mistakes…
When he couldn’t go through with those rescheduled plans because he’d already made plans with his friends, you let it go. Hey, it happens…
When he lied to you and told you it was only because he loved you and didn’t want to hurt you, you let it go. People do that…
When he completely and totally forgot about your existence in every way, shape, and form… you let it go. It hurt. It hurt so much. But you let it go. Because he said he was sorry and he felt badly. And you didn’t want him to feel badly. Because you hated knowing that you were the reason he was feeling that way. It didn’t matter that he was the one who screwed up. The second you realized something was happening, you already felt bad. Because you knew he’d say he felt bad. And you just couldn’t stand the mental image you got of him sitting there, head in his hands, fingers in his hair, eyes closed, in emotional agony.
But that’s all it was. A mental image. You saw it. That didn’t necessarily mean it existed, though.
The first time he hung up on you, you let it go. It was your fault, anyway. You should’ve never brought her up.
The first time he screamed at you, you let it go. Again, it was your fault. You should’ve never started crying over something that stupid.
The first time he shoved you up against that wall so violently that you thought every bone in your back was broken, you let it go. You should’ve never accused him of that.
The first time his hand met your face with what felt like the force of a god damn bus… the first time he grabbed your arm so hard it left marks, bruises, of his finger prints… the first time his hand settled tightly and uncomfortably around your throat… the first time he threw you on that bed, climbed on top of you, and forced himself into you… you let it go. You let it all go. Because the first time he looked you in the eye and told you he loved you, you believed it…
Like an idiot, you believed it. You believed every word that came of his mouth. You believed that he was sorry when he apologized. You believed that he’d never kissed her, touched her, fucked her in the hallway the night of your 18th birthday party. You believed he was drunk when he told his friends word for word what you said to him the night of your first time with him. You believed he just messed up a lot. After all, that’s what he told you when you first started talking. He told you that he was afraid of getting involved with you because he always screwed something up. No matter how perfect something was, he’d find a way to fuck it up. And that only made you want to prove to him that he wasn’t a screw up, that this was something special, something he couldn’t fuck up. So every time he apologized, you let it go. Because you didn’t want him to be right. Because you knew how he’d feel. You couldn’t have him feeling like he was a fuck up. You couldn’t have him feeling guilty over something that you probably started, anyway. You could picture him crying in his room, in his bed, on the phone to you.
That’s all it was. A picture. Just because you hear things doesn’t mean they really exist.
Just because he said he loved you doesn’t mean he actually ever did.
And you’ve finally realized that.
I’ve finally realized that.
He never loved me the way he said he did. And I should’ve seen it the first time he hurt me. They all told me to watch out. They all told me to get out before I got in too deep. But it was too late. I was stuck. No matter what he did to me, no matter what he said to me, he was still coming around. So I must’ve meant something. Just that thought alone kept me going. I meant something to someone, I meant something to him. I didn’t know what life would be like without him. I didn’t even want to picture life without him. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t let myself.
But that final time he left me in tears on my bedroom floor… that final time he left a mark on my cheek… that final time he told me I was stupid and I shouldn’t be wasting my time thinking about stupid shit… that final time he broke my heart… I wondered what it would be like if he weren’t around. The more I thought about it, the better it looked.
I realized he didn’t love me. And I realized that I didn’t love him. It had never existed. No matter how many times I tried to tell myself it was there, somewhere, hidden, it was never there. It had ceased to exist. He never loved me.
He said he loved me. He said he was sorry.
He said he loved you. He said he was sorry, but this time… you didn’t let it go.
I didn’t let it go.
Genre: drama, monologue
Date: 04/05/05
Summary: You let it go. You always let it go. Until…
Disclaimer: Mine.
Let it Go
It starts off small… it always starts off small. The call comes a half hour or so late, the car pulls up two or three hours after your hair’s been done. But then, slowly, but surely, it all evolves. The phone doesn’t ring or the doorbell doesn’t buzz or maybe the car horn doesn’t honk. Plans are forgotten, or maybe just thrown to the side. Time is spent with someone else. It’s the small things… and even though they’re small, and even though you forgive him over and over again, you don’t forget them. You don’t forget how much they hurt you… he hurt you. You don’t forget the tears you cried. You don’t forget how many times you made yourself sick over just the thought of him. You don’t forget how many times he claimed to not understand what you were talking about, how many times he played stupid or lied his way out. You don’t forget how you thought you meant something… and you never, ever forget how it felt when you found out that you never meant anything. At all.
Time after time again, you let everything go. You forgave. Forgiveness is your weakness. You’ve got the weakest will known to man. You can’t be mad at him, he has too much power. He’s always had too much power. And he always took it for granted. Of course, you never admitted that. You couldn’t. It was just something you couldn’t come to terms with. You didn’t want to come to terms with it.
When he’d fall asleep before he called, you let it go. He must’ve been tired…
When he lost track of time and had to reschedule your plans, you let it go. He’s human, he makes mistakes…
When he couldn’t go through with those rescheduled plans because he’d already made plans with his friends, you let it go. Hey, it happens…
When he lied to you and told you it was only because he loved you and didn’t want to hurt you, you let it go. People do that…
When he completely and totally forgot about your existence in every way, shape, and form… you let it go. It hurt. It hurt so much. But you let it go. Because he said he was sorry and he felt badly. And you didn’t want him to feel badly. Because you hated knowing that you were the reason he was feeling that way. It didn’t matter that he was the one who screwed up. The second you realized something was happening, you already felt bad. Because you knew he’d say he felt bad. And you just couldn’t stand the mental image you got of him sitting there, head in his hands, fingers in his hair, eyes closed, in emotional agony.
But that’s all it was. A mental image. You saw it. That didn’t necessarily mean it existed, though.
The first time he hung up on you, you let it go. It was your fault, anyway. You should’ve never brought her up.
The first time he screamed at you, you let it go. Again, it was your fault. You should’ve never started crying over something that stupid.
The first time he shoved you up against that wall so violently that you thought every bone in your back was broken, you let it go. You should’ve never accused him of that.
The first time his hand met your face with what felt like the force of a god damn bus… the first time he grabbed your arm so hard it left marks, bruises, of his finger prints… the first time his hand settled tightly and uncomfortably around your throat… the first time he threw you on that bed, climbed on top of you, and forced himself into you… you let it go. You let it all go. Because the first time he looked you in the eye and told you he loved you, you believed it…
Like an idiot, you believed it. You believed every word that came of his mouth. You believed that he was sorry when he apologized. You believed that he’d never kissed her, touched her, fucked her in the hallway the night of your 18th birthday party. You believed he was drunk when he told his friends word for word what you said to him the night of your first time with him. You believed he just messed up a lot. After all, that’s what he told you when you first started talking. He told you that he was afraid of getting involved with you because he always screwed something up. No matter how perfect something was, he’d find a way to fuck it up. And that only made you want to prove to him that he wasn’t a screw up, that this was something special, something he couldn’t fuck up. So every time he apologized, you let it go. Because you didn’t want him to be right. Because you knew how he’d feel. You couldn’t have him feeling like he was a fuck up. You couldn’t have him feeling guilty over something that you probably started, anyway. You could picture him crying in his room, in his bed, on the phone to you.
That’s all it was. A picture. Just because you hear things doesn’t mean they really exist.
Just because he said he loved you doesn’t mean he actually ever did.
And you’ve finally realized that.
I’ve finally realized that.
He never loved me the way he said he did. And I should’ve seen it the first time he hurt me. They all told me to watch out. They all told me to get out before I got in too deep. But it was too late. I was stuck. No matter what he did to me, no matter what he said to me, he was still coming around. So I must’ve meant something. Just that thought alone kept me going. I meant something to someone, I meant something to him. I didn’t know what life would be like without him. I didn’t even want to picture life without him. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t let myself.
But that final time he left me in tears on my bedroom floor… that final time he left a mark on my cheek… that final time he told me I was stupid and I shouldn’t be wasting my time thinking about stupid shit… that final time he broke my heart… I wondered what it would be like if he weren’t around. The more I thought about it, the better it looked.
I realized he didn’t love me. And I realized that I didn’t love him. It had never existed. No matter how many times I tried to tell myself it was there, somewhere, hidden, it was never there. It had ceased to exist. He never loved me.
He said he loved me. He said he was sorry.
He said he loved you. He said he was sorry, but this time… you didn’t let it go.
I didn’t let it go.