iLoveYouWithaKnife
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Mar 30, 2002
- Messages
- 8,351
I had a quarter ounce of pot the day I decided I had enough.
And perhaps if it wasn't for that, I would have sat in what was 'our room' and cried the whole entire night.
And do nothing to change what was going on.
I was able to take it when you brought her over.
I was able to take it when she was in our house.
I was able to take it when I saw you two grilling burgers on the balcony, sitting on the blue fabric wooden chairs purchased at pier 1.
I thought it was all going to pass.
I remember peering out of the window one afternoon as she beeped the horn in the driveway.
At that moment, I was sitting on the floor staring at the wall
singing the song that blared on my stereo,
'the places you have come to fear the most'
You opened the doors to our walk in closet, grabbed a shirt
and ran out the front door.
I was at the point where I wouldn't allow myself to cry.
She wasn't the one who was suppose to go to the reception.
And even though I was still invited to come along,
everyone knew I wouldn't show my face.
Instead I did something you or anyone else,
didn't expect.
I neatly boxed all of your belongs and put them in the hall.
It was getting a little sickening hearing day after day
how much you hated me,
and how you were moving out.
Perhaps when you said you were 'moving out'
you meant out of my life,
but I wanted you out of my room.
And I remember as I was folding all your shirts
and putting all of your shoes in bags
I cried proudly.
Because I knew what I needed to do,
and I was finally able to stand up
and do it.
Many months after that I spent wondering,
if I did the right thing or not.
I remember speaking to you after I moved,
and you had told me that if i never would have packed your stuff, you probably wouldn't have moved out.
Because you didn't want to.
You didn't want things to turn out like that.
And I guess at the time,
I didn't either.
But it was too hard for me to see you not look at me day after day.
And if you did, it was in a way that made me feel empty.
And I didn't like it.
Perhaps it would have all passed,
like I mentioned before
but I'm glad it didn't.
I'm glad I didn't give it another chance.
I wonder where in your house
that James Dean picture is hung.
Maybe the bathroom like Vermont.
I remember the day I noticed it wasn't hanging by the door,
on Lee Ct.
I was pissed cause that was a present for me.
I opened the door in the kitchen and
walked down the steps to the basement
saying
I thought that was for me, why'd you take it?
And all I saw was her.
I didn't know she was there.
I stopped half in my tracks
and picked my head up.
I hope everytime you look at that picture
you see the picture of my disappointed face that day.
As I didn't say another word.
Just looked at the two of you
and walked up to my room.
They say you can only be pushed so far.
And I guess that's what happened.
I'm feeling a little pushed right now.
But into a corner.
Where there's two walls,
two options.
I can continue on,
like this......
or I can
turn around
and walk away.
I feel like a small child that was sent in the corner,
for acting up.
Left there to think about what it was they did wrong.
And perhaps when I realize I did nothing,
I can turn and walk away from that corner,
from all this fucking mess.
I don't know what it is though,
that's stopping me right now.
forty-eight hours
remember that.
I knew what was going to happen.
I rememeber warning you.
I said we can start this all on Wednesday.
But you said you wouldn't need to.
I should have realized that the forty eight hours,
would never start on your clock.
It stopped ticking along time ago.
Maybe it stopped with your heart.
Call me a fucking cunt
and turn back around.
Call me something else.
I don't care anymore.
There's nothing else that you could have said
that could hurt me anymore.
And your going to go out tonight
and fuck someone else?
Good, I hope she's a blast.
And you accidentally call her my name.
Fucking slut.
And yeah, would you really do it?
I think the words would probably hurt more,
than you going out and actually doing it.
Just the fact, you would say the most hurtful thing to me.
Everything around me literally stopped.
I felt a flashback to the basement,
on those steps.
The incident with the JD picture.
I hope you remember the look of dissapointment,
on my face,
as I turned to walk away.
I hope you felt me hurt.
And as you drove away
I threw my body against that brick wall
that held me up for a second,
and slid to the ground.
And just stared for a while.
I wonder as the cars drove by,
probably saw a tear or two fall from my eyes,
I wonder what they thought.
They were probably driving home
from Easter dinner.
I wonder what they saw,
besides a sad girl sitting against a brick wall.
I wonder if they saw the look of disappointment.
And perhaps if it wasn't for that, I would have sat in what was 'our room' and cried the whole entire night.
And do nothing to change what was going on.
I was able to take it when you brought her over.
I was able to take it when she was in our house.
I was able to take it when I saw you two grilling burgers on the balcony, sitting on the blue fabric wooden chairs purchased at pier 1.
I thought it was all going to pass.
I remember peering out of the window one afternoon as she beeped the horn in the driveway.
At that moment, I was sitting on the floor staring at the wall
singing the song that blared on my stereo,
'the places you have come to fear the most'
You opened the doors to our walk in closet, grabbed a shirt
and ran out the front door.
I was at the point where I wouldn't allow myself to cry.
She wasn't the one who was suppose to go to the reception.
And even though I was still invited to come along,
everyone knew I wouldn't show my face.
Instead I did something you or anyone else,
didn't expect.
I neatly boxed all of your belongs and put them in the hall.
It was getting a little sickening hearing day after day
how much you hated me,
and how you were moving out.
Perhaps when you said you were 'moving out'
you meant out of my life,
but I wanted you out of my room.
And I remember as I was folding all your shirts
and putting all of your shoes in bags
I cried proudly.
Because I knew what I needed to do,
and I was finally able to stand up
and do it.
Many months after that I spent wondering,
if I did the right thing or not.
I remember speaking to you after I moved,
and you had told me that if i never would have packed your stuff, you probably wouldn't have moved out.
Because you didn't want to.
You didn't want things to turn out like that.
And I guess at the time,
I didn't either.
But it was too hard for me to see you not look at me day after day.
And if you did, it was in a way that made me feel empty.
And I didn't like it.
Perhaps it would have all passed,
like I mentioned before
but I'm glad it didn't.
I'm glad I didn't give it another chance.
I wonder where in your house
that James Dean picture is hung.
Maybe the bathroom like Vermont.
I remember the day I noticed it wasn't hanging by the door,
on Lee Ct.
I was pissed cause that was a present for me.
I opened the door in the kitchen and
walked down the steps to the basement
saying
I thought that was for me, why'd you take it?
And all I saw was her.
I didn't know she was there.
I stopped half in my tracks
and picked my head up.
I hope everytime you look at that picture
you see the picture of my disappointed face that day.
As I didn't say another word.
Just looked at the two of you
and walked up to my room.
They say you can only be pushed so far.
And I guess that's what happened.
I'm feeling a little pushed right now.
But into a corner.
Where there's two walls,
two options.
I can continue on,
like this......
or I can
turn around
and walk away.
I feel like a small child that was sent in the corner,
for acting up.
Left there to think about what it was they did wrong.
And perhaps when I realize I did nothing,
I can turn and walk away from that corner,
from all this fucking mess.
I don't know what it is though,
that's stopping me right now.
forty-eight hours
remember that.
I knew what was going to happen.
I rememeber warning you.
I said we can start this all on Wednesday.
But you said you wouldn't need to.
I should have realized that the forty eight hours,
would never start on your clock.
It stopped ticking along time ago.
Maybe it stopped with your heart.
Call me a fucking cunt
and turn back around.
Call me something else.
I don't care anymore.
There's nothing else that you could have said
that could hurt me anymore.
And your going to go out tonight
and fuck someone else?
Good, I hope she's a blast.
And you accidentally call her my name.
Fucking slut.
And yeah, would you really do it?
I think the words would probably hurt more,
than you going out and actually doing it.
Just the fact, you would say the most hurtful thing to me.
Everything around me literally stopped.
I felt a flashback to the basement,
on those steps.
The incident with the JD picture.
I hope you remember the look of dissapointment,
on my face,
as I turned to walk away.
I hope you felt me hurt.
And as you drove away
I threw my body against that brick wall
that held me up for a second,
and slid to the ground.
And just stared for a while.
I wonder as the cars drove by,
probably saw a tear or two fall from my eyes,
I wonder what they thought.
They were probably driving home
from Easter dinner.
I wonder what they saw,
besides a sad girl sitting against a brick wall.
I wonder if they saw the look of disappointment.
![:\](https://bluelight.org/xf/BL_Images/Orig_Emoji/wrygrin.gif "wry grin :\")
