They don't love you like I love you...
Well, you did it.
You moved on. You found a new girl.
I suppose it goes without saying that she's so drastically different from me. She'd have to be; you could never understand me, and ultimately that's what drove us apart. Sure, there were millions of other things that made everything go so wrong. You snored, I liked to argue, you wouldn't put the toilet seat down, we lived too far apart but we couldn't handle living together, I only wanted sex on my own terms, you only wanted sex on your own terms, but in essence it really boiled down to you and I being wavelengths and light-years apart from one another. And you bolted. You willingly took off running from me - traded a nose buried in Sartre and Dostoevsky for one lost in Twilight and Cosmo; dreams of notoriety and new discoveries for dreams of children and white picket fences; kadai chicken for steak and potatoes; a loud, outspoken voice for large, voluptuous tits; political discussion for "What's on TV tonight?".
I can't say I'm upset with you, or that I blame you. I really did love you in my own way. I could've loved you more if you'd only wanted something better for yourself in life, if you could've just opened yourself up to learning, knowledge, living, LIFE...but I never saw that in you. You were so content to do little more than sit on the couch playing video games. You always seemed so overwhelmed around me, as if you were praying that I could get through one conversation without referencing patriarchy or human consciousness or rape/consumer/political/fillintheblankhere culture. So many instances I bit my tongue as you stared blankly at me, unable to comprehend my train of thought. So many nights I stared at your sleeping face, loathing the creases and lines in your soft unconsciousness as I pondered just how much you were holding me back. So many times tears ran from my own face as I looked in the mirror, wondering just how far I would go with my own intellectual immolation, just in order to keep you around. My struggle for acceptance and validation led me into your arms time and time again, yet every time we failed, I was left blaming myself. It always seemed like the unspoken conclusion was that there was ultimately something wrong with me, that I was too much to handle, the anomaly, the one who needed to dull myself down and soften myself around the edges in order to Make Things Work™. And I spent years believing it was true. I spent years thinking I deserved to be alone, was dysfunctional, intimidating, too smart for my own good.
Until now.
Don't get me wrong. I'm happy for you. Really. It's really better for both of us that you've found your comfort and meaning in embracing mediocrity, as it seems you've already reached your meager apex in life. Me...I'll take my dusty esoteric books, richly spiced foods, 3am philosophical discussions, and blood & ochre sunsets so breathtaking they send chills racing through my body. What's more, I'll experience them with or without someone at my side, because if there's anything that chasing you taught me, it's that sublimating myself is far more of a sacrifice than I can bear to make.
You moved on. You found a new girl.
I suppose it goes without saying that she's so drastically different from me. She'd have to be; you could never understand me, and ultimately that's what drove us apart. Sure, there were millions of other things that made everything go so wrong. You snored, I liked to argue, you wouldn't put the toilet seat down, we lived too far apart but we couldn't handle living together, I only wanted sex on my own terms, you only wanted sex on your own terms, but in essence it really boiled down to you and I being wavelengths and light-years apart from one another. And you bolted. You willingly took off running from me - traded a nose buried in Sartre and Dostoevsky for one lost in Twilight and Cosmo; dreams of notoriety and new discoveries for dreams of children and white picket fences; kadai chicken for steak and potatoes; a loud, outspoken voice for large, voluptuous tits; political discussion for "What's on TV tonight?".
I can't say I'm upset with you, or that I blame you. I really did love you in my own way. I could've loved you more if you'd only wanted something better for yourself in life, if you could've just opened yourself up to learning, knowledge, living, LIFE...but I never saw that in you. You were so content to do little more than sit on the couch playing video games. You always seemed so overwhelmed around me, as if you were praying that I could get through one conversation without referencing patriarchy or human consciousness or rape/consumer/political/fillintheblankhere culture. So many instances I bit my tongue as you stared blankly at me, unable to comprehend my train of thought. So many nights I stared at your sleeping face, loathing the creases and lines in your soft unconsciousness as I pondered just how much you were holding me back. So many times tears ran from my own face as I looked in the mirror, wondering just how far I would go with my own intellectual immolation, just in order to keep you around. My struggle for acceptance and validation led me into your arms time and time again, yet every time we failed, I was left blaming myself. It always seemed like the unspoken conclusion was that there was ultimately something wrong with me, that I was too much to handle, the anomaly, the one who needed to dull myself down and soften myself around the edges in order to Make Things Work™. And I spent years believing it was true. I spent years thinking I deserved to be alone, was dysfunctional, intimidating, too smart for my own good.
Until now.
Don't get me wrong. I'm happy for you. Really. It's really better for both of us that you've found your comfort and meaning in embracing mediocrity, as it seems you've already reached your meager apex in life. Me...I'll take my dusty esoteric books, richly spiced foods, 3am philosophical discussions, and blood & ochre sunsets so breathtaking they send chills racing through my body. What's more, I'll experience them with or without someone at my side, because if there's anything that chasing you taught me, it's that sublimating myself is far more of a sacrifice than I can bear to make.