I've sat and thought about all the ways I could start this "vent" and so far, none that are worth truly reading have come to mind, so I guess I'll start from the beginning.
It all started with a text, "He's busy for a bit." I didn't know the person who'd responded to call I didn't make or the text I didn't send to them. I had to check the internet to find out what area code the phone number was originating from. After realizing who it could be, I still didn't KNOW them. So, why were they responding to a call I'd made to someone else? The brief conversation that followed was awkward and weird, though, enjoyable. I felt timid at the idea, but the more we talked the more intrigued I was. I'd only heard stories and seen pictures of the person, we'll call him Joe, who had, seemingly at random, text me out of the blue. Maybe it was OK. Maybe Joe was different ... maybe not.
One night, I caved, Joe showed up and we watched a movie. Well, when you go looking for trouble, you're bound to find it, cause, Joe, that's all you are. Trouble Tool - Your alias. I never thought I could be more repulsed by one person than I am currently of you. Sure, I may "grow up and deal" one day and be just fine, but right now, my stomach flips, flops, jumps, and drops and bile ain't the only thing coming up. Do you ever think of anyone else but yourself? Do you ever REALLY wonder, 'if I do this, will it hurt them? Will they be angry?' Or is the only thing running through your mind, 'well, I hope they don't find out. I know I'll be expecting something later.'
There are certain things in life that are ... just that BIG of a deal and being used for those things isn't just insulting. It goes so far beyond insulting. People fly off the handle, so to speak, lose it, jump off bridges, slit their wrists the CORRECT way, just go catatonic over those things. It surprises me that there are individuals out there that are so self absorbed, SO entitled, they would push others over the edge and into compromising positions just to get what they think they need and deserve. Really, it's NOT OK. Sex isn't just something to be thrown to the wind. Love, even affection in any form, isn't something to be thrown at the hooves of pigs. Beware of these heartless people. They'll use whatever it takes to hook you, take you for every ATOM you're worth. They'll rip you to unrecognizable pieces and scatter them to the four corners of the earth if just means one fix, one hour, ONE MEASLY night. They build themselves up, play innocent, play the part that's most enticing only to throw you in the oven to bake you and devour you. Why? Because they have insecurities that need to be compensated for. Because they have no actual self worth, so they steal yours thinking they can replace the missing links. Because their "depression is so overwhelming" it won't allow them to do anything else. Because the "release just feels so good," they honestly can't help themselves to seconds. They'll drag it out for months if necessary taking not just once, but multiple times. Sorry, friend, double dipping isn't allowed; in fact, it's disciplineable. Fuck me side ways, luv, but life ain't getting any better for you the way you're leading it. Happiness isn't found in the "release." Honestly, happiness just plain ain't found. Make it, bitch. But don't fucking screw the rest of us over just cause you ain't made the time to make it, bitch.
I once felt a sea's worth of emotion for you: pity, empathy, sympathy, anger, love, lust, gitters ... But in this very moment, I don't feel a thing. You've lost your luster, your appeal, your sparkle. The newness has faded away to dust. The moon disappeared, and the sun rose to shine brightly on your ugly, contorted features. The beauty that once was there was all an illusion crafted so carefully, so dilligently to prey wholey on the weak of this world. I see it now, I've torn it away to reveal your true shades of black and grey. Do I dare allow myself to even feel disappointment at the image before me? Or should I be disappointed that, once again, I was fooled so easily into believing a ridiculous fantasy? Who's more at fault? Right now, the illusion. Don't make people believe something you don't intend to follow through with. Don't make them think that maybe now isn't the time, but if I hold on just a little longer, it'll be right. It's degrading. It's a violation of virtue and of trust. One day, sure, I'll "grow up and deal," but I've been fucked over for the last time by you. So pack up your Godforsaken insecurities and hit the road, Jack. I'm no longer the fool, the hopeless romantic for you, or just a pair of plump lumps.
It's true what they say, "all that glitters is not gold," my hidden oasis in the mirage.
