Picadilly Love Affair

Looks like you didn’t make the cut. Probably out getting revenge for something that your frail tiny mind fabricated. I suppose I needed a queen to run my castle alongside with me. I needed you to be the woman to do that, but you can’t turn a little girl into a woman overnight. Yet still, John Henry’s hammer couldn’t strike my heart down as hard as you did. You can’t be in a relationship if you only take care of yourself. I took care of you for a little over a year, and I did it with omnipresence, from two thousand miles away. You would’ve been a selfish queen and beheaded, but let’s save you the trouble shall we? Was my control bad? You know that deep down, you needed that control, but couldn’t risk your reputation to admit it. “You may be right, I may be crazy, But I’m just the kind of lunatic you’re looking for.” Billy Joel was a genius and an alcoholic. But he saw the world and laid it down the way it was, and he didn’t give two shits about being cool. I read somewhere that love is, giving someone the power to break your heart, but trusting them not to. Don’t settle for the one you can live with, settle for the one you can’t live without.

I don’t tease that you’ve got the mind of a child. Artistically, that’s a great trait to have because there is no mind more pure than a child’s. But in a relationship, a child’s mind is probably the worst thing you can do to it. I couldn’t stand the fibbings and all the playmates you wanted to have. And I couldn’t stand that you couldn’t sit with your legs closed, young lady. Most of all, I hated whenever you were wrong, but were unable to apologize like an adult and take responsibility for your actions. You always tried to blame someone else for your own world of Lego’s falling apart when it was you who built them poorly. When you make a public apology and take responsibility for murdering an innocent cat, then I’ll start to see you in a different light. Don’t be mistaken though, I’m not the cat you murdered, you were the cat you murdered.

As for me, I’m filled with even more hurt and deprecation now because I’ll always blame myself when I clearly know it was you who caused it all. Your hands are red, but I’ll always feel as though I could’ve done something, now my hands are charred black because I tried to control the fire.  After all the biting, shin kicking, spitting, and mud throwing, I had to stop trying to get you to wear your bib. Clearly I’m not as strong as I thought, and for that, I apologize. I’ll let you continue to play outside until you get cold and hungry. When you come back inside, I won’t be there. Not in the kitchen cooking, not on the couch watching television, not in the bathroom shaving, and not in the bedroom sleeping. You need to learn empathy for what you did to me, and I figure you’ll eventually be old enough to know what that means. Stay as long as you like, But there’s no home for you girl, now go away.

I’m just saying that if your infidelity is due to you committing actions based on the theory of how much love you think you deserve, then you never really deserved love in the first place. Unless you firmly believe love is purely physical, then that would mean there’d be no point in closing the distance gap between us. I’d never have to see you. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but in our case, absence makes the world go round.

I adore your new pictures, and I can see that everyone does as well. I suppose you don’t have to be half naked and covered in mud to get attention. I’d like to insert an, “I told you so,” here, but I’m sure you knew I was right as usual. I’m giving you back your IP address. I’m afraid I don’t care to watch your pretentiousness flourish any longer. I’m logging out, and wish you well. Don’t forget your berries and your ‘ades.

I've never had a real smile until you came along. Then you took it back, laughing.

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