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trauma

The room turns in another spout of whirlwinds and twirl ins and I’m not sure where you are, nor do I want to know I know I caused the arguments but surely in your so called artistry you can’t write the play to portray me as all of the villains. You are the one who made me argue and bargain for my rest till 5 in the morning with absolutely no warning, a vague acknowledgment at best. All I did was ask how your day was. But no, no I get it. No, really I do get it. I was the one who didn’t text back fast enough when you decided to be ‘reckless’ with some dude I’d never met I was the one who didn’t answer the phone on the first 5 ringers so you took a bottle of sleeping pills. Oh wait, that’s right. Blood thinners. I was the one who never understood what you were feeling so you went outside the get a sense of what I was stealing from your being, something that would be freeing in your instincts of sex and underage drinking. Just some thinking. Now let’s talk about your effects after my departure. You know that **** they say about the day getting lighter and brighter as the days continue on? Well my days even after 90 of them have still been dark, growing darker because of your traumatic ways of speaking and dealing with your own self inflicted emotional wounds. I’m not a fucking doctor. Well it’s been about 7 months and now I’m better No, honestly, even with that elementary creation I promise I have gotten past your gifts of trauma to phone calls, text messaging and straight up conversation. You have left me with the gift of how to deal with assholes with common sense Step 1. Don’t talk to them Now I think I’m going to end this here, I’m tired of the thought of you and had to get this out on some kind of paper. I hope that everyone that you deal with knows your habits or at least, they haven’t worsened and you’ve gotten better at being a fucking person.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




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