Slicing the straight laces

½ a bottle of vodka
Ditto on the peach schnapps
2 Percocet
4 benadryl (to counteract the itching of the Percocet)
All mixed up with mango orange juice

Congratulations… You finally succeeded in slicing through the straight laces holding me together.  You finally made me a drunk like you.

All it took was breaking my heart again… And again… And again.


Abandoning me again… And again… And again, despite every ounce of acceptance, forgiveness, love, friendship, and chemistry I’ve given you. 

You said you “want” when I sent you a picture… What do you want, and WHY?

My heart? Why, so you can shatter it again? 

My trust? Why, so you can convince me that you love me and then abandon me again?

My body? Why, because that’s all that has any value to you?

Thank you ever so much for making a fool out of me.  Thank you for teaching me that nobody can be trusted to adhere to their word, especially if those words are “I love you”… At least not when directed at ME.  Because love doesn’t deliberately do the one thing it knows will hurt me most.  Love doesn’t walk away after using my body and ignore me like it never uttered “I love you” and promised to stick around, to TRY to make things work.  Love doesn’t treat me like I’m nothing, no matter WHAT the circumstance.

Thanks for teaching me that love doesn’t exist when directed at me.  Thanks for teaching me that I’m just not good enough to keep promises to, not good enough to trust our communicate with.  Thanks for teaching me that I’m only worth as much as my pussy and my mouth can please anyone.


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