Friday, June 30, 2006
I Told You So
As I stood in Scott's bathroom, getting ready on Tuesday morning, it hit me like a ton of bricks- I'm never going to see him again. I knew then that- now that he had gotten what he wanted, he would be gone.
I was right.
No phone calls. No text messages. Just silence, mocking my delusions.
I can't cry about it to anyone. I don't have that right. I knew going into this situation what an absolute asshole he is, and I knew that he couldn't have changed dramatically in the span of only one month. I knew that this would end badly.
I want to lock my heart in a box and never open it again. I don't want anyone to touch me ever again. I don't want to feel butterflies. I don't want to hope. I don't want to meet someone's eyes and know that they are just as attracted to me as I am to them. I don't want to feel that rush of the first kiss. I don't want to believe. I don't want to trust.
I don't want to hurt anymore.
I went to the gym last night and with each step on the treadmill, I berated myself letting him get to me again. I blasted Marilyn Manson and Metallica in my ears, punishing myself for opening a door that should have deadbolted 10 times over.
I was right.
No phone calls. No text messages. Just silence, mocking my delusions.
I can't cry about it to anyone. I don't have that right. I knew going into this situation what an absolute asshole he is, and I knew that he couldn't have changed dramatically in the span of only one month. I knew that this would end badly.
I want to lock my heart in a box and never open it again. I don't want anyone to touch me ever again. I don't want to feel butterflies. I don't want to hope. I don't want to meet someone's eyes and know that they are just as attracted to me as I am to them. I don't want to feel that rush of the first kiss. I don't want to believe. I don't want to trust.
I don't want to hurt anymore.
I went to the gym last night and with each step on the treadmill, I berated myself letting him get to me again. I blasted Marilyn Manson and Metallica in my ears, punishing myself for opening a door that should have deadbolted 10 times over.
Labels: Scott
