End Scene.
I forgot how awful crying this hard makes a person feel. There's a new feeling, too. Throbs of real heartbreak and feeling the sharp pangs of rebound-girl reality. Thanks a heap, you. Utter abandonment has always been a real favorite of mine.
You say you still love me, but you can't give me a yes or no answer as to whether you want to be with me still. You said me loving you isn't enough anymore. It's your fault, and your fault only, that I'm not there with you to do more. Before I left you promised me that nothing was going to change between us. As soon as I got back here I could feel it. I tried to ignore it, but it was always there.
And today, when you called me and we talked for about two minutes, then said you were going to go; I asked, "You don't want to talk?" and you said, straight up, "No, not really." And that was it. Until our breakup via text messages started, when I started asking you these questions and you were 'just not in the mood' because you never are.
I used to think that you were the air that I breathe. That you were my prince. That I could love you forever. That I need you. And I absolutely hate myself for still thinking all of those things are true.
I think with everything I'm feeling right now, and with everything that's happened to me over this last year and a half with you, I could right a fucking book. And here is where you would usually makes a sexual pun about books fucking, and I would laugh. But now, thinking about the look on your face and the tone in which you would say it, I wipe another tear away and scowl.
/End Scene/
You say you still love me, but you can't give me a yes or no answer as to whether you want to be with me still. You said me loving you isn't enough anymore. It's your fault, and your fault only, that I'm not there with you to do more. Before I left you promised me that nothing was going to change between us. As soon as I got back here I could feel it. I tried to ignore it, but it was always there.
And today, when you called me and we talked for about two minutes, then said you were going to go; I asked, "You don't want to talk?" and you said, straight up, "No, not really." And that was it. Until our breakup via text messages started, when I started asking you these questions and you were 'just not in the mood' because you never are.
I used to think that you were the air that I breathe. That you were my prince. That I could love you forever. That I need you. And I absolutely hate myself for still thinking all of those things are true.
I think with everything I'm feeling right now, and with everything that's happened to me over this last year and a half with you, I could right a fucking book. And here is where you would usually makes a sexual pun about books fucking, and I would laugh. But now, thinking about the look on your face and the tone in which you would say it, I wipe another tear away and scowl.
/End Scene/