who is this?

who is this?

Status: In Progress

Genre: Humor

Houses:

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Humor

Houses:

Summary

continuation of lesson...what was it again? feels like we're on 8,000 now. fuckbois pronounced fuh-ck/ bo/ee/s example: that fuckboi texted me after three months of radio silence
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Summary

continuation of lesson...what was it again? feels like we're on 8,000 now. fuckbois pronounced fuh-ck/ bo/ee/s example: that fuckboi texted me after three months of radio silence

Content

Submitted: February 10, 2017

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Content

Submitted: February 10, 2017

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"Hey, how are you doing"? Innocent, innocuous, one might think even sincere. A generally genial phrase uttered by those who might care. In this case, it made my brains explode.

I'm mad for several reasons.

1. The fact that he felt compelled to text me like we always chit chat, and are at that level of casual interchange

2. I'm mad that he feels like he is even remotely allowed to text me, ping my brain and force me to think of him

3. That I'm mad, I'm fuming and I can't let it go because...fuck. I thought about responding. The white rabbit.

 

Here's the Alice in Wonderland dream sequence of how it would play out.

 

 

"Hey, how're you doing?"

"Hey, I'm fine. You?"

"Good".

LONGEST PAUSE IN THE HISTORY OF MANKIND TO WHERE I FEEL COMPELLED TO ASK HIM QUESTIONS THAT HAVE BEEN BURNING IN MY BRAIN.

"Have you been thinking of me? Do you miss me? Did you even actually care about me? Do you want to keep talking to me because you're lonely or because you actually miss me? Why are you texting me? Do you disrespect my relationship that much that you feel its ok to message me? Who do you think you are? "

Responses back:
"I've missed you."

"I thought we'd be good together"

BLAH BLAH BLULLSHIT.

 

I'm in a healthy relationship. Its good. We have real love, like the kind where we kinda hate each other but somehow still love too. I can't stay mad, and I forget why I'm upset in the first place. He knows me inside and out, predicts my moves, understands my whims and never questions my feelings. He gives me affirmation on my looks, my intelligence, and my overall worthiness of love.

 

What did HE ever give me? Nothing besides the realization that he is not worth the trouble. My nature is naturally curious, I need to know. Like an itch I can't scratch I want to pepper him with these questions to get some kind of closure. My closure should have been the hundreds of times I felt frustrated and petty when he wouldn't respond or seemingly care about my needs. LET GO OF HIM.

I don't want him. I don't need him, I don't hate him, and I don't love him. He's merely a figure that represents an ego boost, or a mystery to be sorted out. I want to shake him, slap him and shout in his face that he is an asshole. But I don't want to hurt him, or have him think badly of me.

Pretending to have this conversation only relieves the itch for a second. As briefly as a drop of water on a scorching sidewalk. 

My fingers are twitching. Literally obsessing over responding. My brain is gearin up for that sweet release of attention, possible adoration, or even just tantalizing unrequited love. Repetative thoughts of picking up my phone and responding, "Who is this?" keeps rolling around, tumbling clanking loudly.

My heart is pounding. FUCK. WTF. Feels like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff.

Strong winds are blowing. 


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