A long kiss goodnight…
I just sat here and wrote 1 page (in 3 hours) of my book when I have 50 sitting behind it. I can’t read what I’ve written because I just started to forget a lot of it. It upsets me when try to shuffle though it and correct things. Several people have told me to just keep writing and sort the rest out later. Two are writers but I trust all of their opinions.
But even writing that page was painful. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going back to “tragic, tragic” land but WTF?
I guess I was beaten in the brain with a fucking invisible hammer because when I start to write about the subject at hand all I hear is him….
Worthless…worthless….worthless…..the word is so clear.
You NEVER do anything you say
You will NEVER be anything
Stop crying you FUCKING BITCH
I HATE YOU
You’re weak
You’re worthless….
I know that one page is worth more to me than the 50 following but god damnit! I had a beautiful day yesterday and the day before. Those days, I have not seen in years.
For the first time in my life I feel I can actually do something...write a book…and the one thing that I’m writing about is standing in my way. And it’s the one person that said I couldn’t or wouldn’t ever do or amount to anything.
Oh how I hate him.
I use to have day dreams a lot. Well I always did since childhood. But when I was with him they got progressively worse. It started to become a problem. I was more in my world than the real world. I mention this because I would like to share my favorite….I know this will make me feel better.
He didn’t call. I didn’t know where he was. He’s not usually like this. He will at least call and say he’s spending the night at a friend’s house. The police come to my door in the early morning. “Ms. F, your boyfriend has been found in a ditch. I’m sorry to tell you he’s dead”.
Flash to the funeral
Everyone is sorry and he was a good man.
I’m the grieving girlfriend
No one ever knew what went on
No one ever knew he was mean
It died with him.
That daydream had been put on a shelf with my collection but will be destroyed as of now.
That fucking asshole alive or dead will never stand in my way again. This is the last time.
I’ve said it time and time again, the guy had it all and he blew it. He blew it enough to make me dream about him being fucking dead. Even in my day dreams I wanted to protect him from people finding out how cruel he could be. My easy way out for letting it go on, I guess.
I think I just solved my problem. It always happens when you write enough.
All fingers are pointing me to one place, including me.
Do it India, write it
There is only one pointing me in the opposite direction
I always went where he told me to go and sure enough disaster laid in wait.
I’m not blaming him for EVERYTHING because god knows we all have our fuck ups. I’m just blaming him for the complete DICK that he was….is….and probably always will be.
But hey FUCK HIM! Tomorrow is page 2.
But even writing that page was painful. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going back to “tragic, tragic” land but WTF?
I guess I was beaten in the brain with a fucking invisible hammer because when I start to write about the subject at hand all I hear is him….
Worthless…worthless….worthless…..the word is so clear.
You NEVER do anything you say
You will NEVER be anything
Stop crying you FUCKING BITCH
I HATE YOU
You’re weak
You’re worthless….
I know that one page is worth more to me than the 50 following but god damnit! I had a beautiful day yesterday and the day before. Those days, I have not seen in years.
For the first time in my life I feel I can actually do something...write a book…and the one thing that I’m writing about is standing in my way. And it’s the one person that said I couldn’t or wouldn’t ever do or amount to anything.
Oh how I hate him.
I use to have day dreams a lot. Well I always did since childhood. But when I was with him they got progressively worse. It started to become a problem. I was more in my world than the real world. I mention this because I would like to share my favorite….I know this will make me feel better.
He didn’t call. I didn’t know where he was. He’s not usually like this. He will at least call and say he’s spending the night at a friend’s house. The police come to my door in the early morning. “Ms. F, your boyfriend has been found in a ditch. I’m sorry to tell you he’s dead”.
Flash to the funeral
Everyone is sorry and he was a good man.
I’m the grieving girlfriend
No one ever knew what went on
No one ever knew he was mean
It died with him.
That daydream had been put on a shelf with my collection but will be destroyed as of now.
That fucking asshole alive or dead will never stand in my way again. This is the last time.
I’ve said it time and time again, the guy had it all and he blew it. He blew it enough to make me dream about him being fucking dead. Even in my day dreams I wanted to protect him from people finding out how cruel he could be. My easy way out for letting it go on, I guess.
I think I just solved my problem. It always happens when you write enough.
All fingers are pointing me to one place, including me.
Do it India, write it
There is only one pointing me in the opposite direction
I always went where he told me to go and sure enough disaster laid in wait.
I’m not blaming him for EVERYTHING because god knows we all have our fuck ups. I’m just blaming him for the complete DICK that he was….is….and probably always will be.
But hey FUCK HIM! Tomorrow is page 2.
posted by iamfallingfromgrace at 4:20 AM
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