It's late at night. I log out of chat and skype and AIM. I turn the ringer on my phone down low and fold back my blanket in bed. I set up an episode of something on Netflix, hit my TV's sleep timer and turn off my bedside lamp. I try to get comfortable and settled, but as soon as I'm holding my spare pillow I remember what it was like when he was here holding me... I would be the big spoon and bury my face in his hair or he laid on his back and I rest my head on his chest to listen to his heartbeat. He would look down at me and smile sweetly, I'd say "what?" knowing fully well what he was going to say next. "You're so gorgeous," he'd answer, and I'd hold his face with one hand and kiss him to say thank you.
I think of all these things now that the day is over and I am alone. My stomach flips, and I turn away from his side of the bed and shut my eyes tight. I tell myself to just fall asleep and hope to God I don't dream about him.
It's early in the morning. My room is dark when I open my eyes, except for the tiny bit of sunlight creeping through my black curtain. I lay there for a moment to wake up and look around. This, I realize, is exactly how my room looked on the morning when we lay together, wrapped up in each other, and he said "I love you" to me while I faded in and out of sleep.
For every fond memory that makes my heart ache, there is a cutting realization that pushes the stake wedged in my heart even deeper. I remember that he told her she was gorgeous. He says it to every girl he wants to fuck. And that morning he said he loved me... was some days after he fucked her behind my back. I remember how he told me he couldn't answer the phone because he was at a show with his friends. He was at her house. I remember how it felt to learn he spent those nights with her and 48 hours later was here with his dick in me, telling me how much he missed me and couldn't wait to hold me...
And then the tears start to well up and before I know it I am laying in the first light of the morning, holding my pillow and weeping to know that he spent his time with her and had the nerve to then spend those days with me.
I will get up to brush my teeth and see his toothbrush or find a piece of his hair in my hairbrush. I will get into the shower and see his shampoo. I will go downstairs to get breakfast and see the food I bought for us in the pantry. And when I get dressed I see the shirt that I wore my very first time to go and meet him. That whole night rushes back and hits me like a freight train and I actually have to sit down on my bed and stare at my hands for a moment to try and make the pain pass.
Everything reminds me. Everything upsets me. To think that I let myself fall in love with an actor, a walking filthy lie... all I wanted was someone to hold me and tell me I was beautiful to them. I need a constant in my life, a support system... and he told me he would be that. Now I have to go get tested for STDs. Who knows who else he fucked when he was away.
Now I don't want to trust anybody. He promised he would never hurt me and here he inflicted so much damage on my heart I can't even get through the fucking day without having to hug myself and cry. I don't want anybody to have this much effect on me ever again.
This is not about love
'Cause I am not in love
In fact I can't
stop
falling out
I miss that stupid ache
I think of all these things now that the day is over and I am alone. My stomach flips, and I turn away from his side of the bed and shut my eyes tight. I tell myself to just fall asleep and hope to God I don't dream about him.
It's early in the morning. My room is dark when I open my eyes, except for the tiny bit of sunlight creeping through my black curtain. I lay there for a moment to wake up and look around. This, I realize, is exactly how my room looked on the morning when we lay together, wrapped up in each other, and he said "I love you" to me while I faded in and out of sleep.
For every fond memory that makes my heart ache, there is a cutting realization that pushes the stake wedged in my heart even deeper. I remember that he told her she was gorgeous. He says it to every girl he wants to fuck. And that morning he said he loved me... was some days after he fucked her behind my back. I remember how he told me he couldn't answer the phone because he was at a show with his friends. He was at her house. I remember how it felt to learn he spent those nights with her and 48 hours later was here with his dick in me, telling me how much he missed me and couldn't wait to hold me...
And then the tears start to well up and before I know it I am laying in the first light of the morning, holding my pillow and weeping to know that he spent his time with her and had the nerve to then spend those days with me.
I will get up to brush my teeth and see his toothbrush or find a piece of his hair in my hairbrush. I will get into the shower and see his shampoo. I will go downstairs to get breakfast and see the food I bought for us in the pantry. And when I get dressed I see the shirt that I wore my very first time to go and meet him. That whole night rushes back and hits me like a freight train and I actually have to sit down on my bed and stare at my hands for a moment to try and make the pain pass.
Everything reminds me. Everything upsets me. To think that I let myself fall in love with an actor, a walking filthy lie... all I wanted was someone to hold me and tell me I was beautiful to them. I need a constant in my life, a support system... and he told me he would be that. Now I have to go get tested for STDs. Who knows who else he fucked when he was away.
Now I don't want to trust anybody. He promised he would never hurt me and here he inflicted so much damage on my heart I can't even get through the fucking day without having to hug myself and cry. I don't want anybody to have this much effect on me ever again.
This is not about love
'Cause I am not in love
In fact I can't
stop
falling out
I miss that stupid ache
You need a hug for sure dude.