Letters from an Ex
Eight Days. That’s one hundred and and ninety two hours. Eleven thousand, five hundred and twenty minutes, or six hundred and ninety one thousand, two hundred seconds, and that is how long I have to wait until you come home. Home to me, your loving, kind, thoughtful, beautiful girlfriend…
Time out, sorry, I was daydreaming again. You’re coming home to your parents basement, role playing games, and semi-decent weather. And lets not forget your desperately trying to get you back ex-girlfriend you keep around for when you need a roll in the hay. Just friends, now there’s the misconception of the year. The only reason I’m a part of your life is because you are terrified to be alone. So, you string me along until you’ve found something better. Then, it’s so long sucker, I’ve got a new girl to show off.
I’m sure we’ll have sex when you come home. And even if it’s fantastic, and full of fire and passion, it will mean nothing. Let’s face it, after the dead is done, nothing remains but too separate entities. You and I are a world apart unless we’re in the sack.
We’re two people, with the entire world between us. I, the hopeless romantic type, who’s always looking for her movie kiss, and you, with a ball of wasted potential in on hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other, can’t even be friends, let alone go out of our ways for one another in the standard romantic relationship. You won’t go out of your way for anyone.
I was thinking about calling you. I know I wouldn’t be able to talk to you, but I thought it would be sweet if I left you a message, just to let you know I’m thinking of you. But you wouldn’t think it was sweet. I don’t know what you would think, but I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t care. Then I thought about making breakfast in bed for you when you got home. Why would I go out of my way to do something like that for you?
I know why, because I want you back. This behavior is begging. I don’t want to be a beggar. I refuse you beg for you’re love, you’re acceptance. When it all boils down, I don’t need it. It kills me to think about not having you in my life anymore, but it kills me to be in this situation.
So when I weigh my options, it seems this has come to an end. We had one hell of run, but I’m tired, and you’re emotionless. This is goodbye.
Time out, sorry, I was daydreaming again. You’re coming home to your parents basement, role playing games, and semi-decent weather. And lets not forget your desperately trying to get you back ex-girlfriend you keep around for when you need a roll in the hay. Just friends, now there’s the misconception of the year. The only reason I’m a part of your life is because you are terrified to be alone. So, you string me along until you’ve found something better. Then, it’s so long sucker, I’ve got a new girl to show off.
I’m sure we’ll have sex when you come home. And even if it’s fantastic, and full of fire and passion, it will mean nothing. Let’s face it, after the dead is done, nothing remains but too separate entities. You and I are a world apart unless we’re in the sack.
We’re two people, with the entire world between us. I, the hopeless romantic type, who’s always looking for her movie kiss, and you, with a ball of wasted potential in on hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other, can’t even be friends, let alone go out of our ways for one another in the standard romantic relationship. You won’t go out of your way for anyone.
I was thinking about calling you. I know I wouldn’t be able to talk to you, but I thought it would be sweet if I left you a message, just to let you know I’m thinking of you. But you wouldn’t think it was sweet. I don’t know what you would think, but I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t care. Then I thought about making breakfast in bed for you when you got home. Why would I go out of my way to do something like that for you?
I know why, because I want you back. This behavior is begging. I don’t want to be a beggar. I refuse you beg for you’re love, you’re acceptance. When it all boils down, I don’t need it. It kills me to think about not having you in my life anymore, but it kills me to be in this situation.
So when I weigh my options, it seems this has come to an end. We had one hell of run, but I’m tired, and you’re emotionless. This is goodbye.