Let me be real,
Much like our situationship, I’ll keep this short and sweet. So I have two things to say. Thank you and f**k you.
I’ll start with the latter. F**k you for playing me when I gave you a love so unconditional that even a nun would say, “You should probably ask for something in return, my dear”. For making me wonder if I was ever out of my mind to let the hostel dealer woo me into his weed stained clutches. For tricking me into thinking that we were probably something like Romeo and Juliet just because you’d knock on my door at 2 in the morning for a late night session. Funny enough, I knew you were all wrong for me. Heck, everybody and their mother’s mother knew you were wrong for me. But how could I help it when you’d stumble about in a drunken haze and only stop when you saw me and say “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen”.
You shot me down hard. Why did you have look at me like a wild, exotic animal that you’d never quite seen before. Why did you stare me down from the other end of the hallway like the only thing stopping you for coming for me was that ka law on public conduct and possible eviction?
You drove me crazy.
Little did I know that you were stalking and watching me from a distance through your hunting gun, wondering how you’d chop me up into small little organized pieces if given the chance. You sick bastard.
But truth was, I really wasn’t a “wild and exotic” animal at all. More like new and fresh meat, yet to know the feeling of a bullet wound to my side. Even still I eventually let you catch me and you cut me so deep that I bled out for weeks.
F**k you for the memories. I remember the sexy nights in your man cave where you’d so primitively try to get me high and drunk enough to sleep with you. I remember us sitting in the dark as we’d watch Yankee Zulu on your TV screen as you’d blow smoke circles in the air and watch me catch them with my mouth if they were perfect. We were so high!
It was all great until you asked me to move closer to you, which I did …and a bit more closer, which I did. Then my heart raced cause I’d never really been so close to a guy before. You, on the other hand, clearly knew what you were doing. You quickly grabbed and squeezed me and stole my first kiss.
It was all 50 Shades of Grey, Chapter 2 worthy until we got somewhere to chapter 4 where the night got heated and I really didn’t wasn’t ready to lose my virginity when you said “Listen, I’m not a bad guy and I really don’t want to rape you” so you politely told me to leave …
F**k you 1 million times. But you were a nice guy and let me pick my shit up and leave in rage like a fool.
Yet, despite the large amount of emotional pain that seeped out of my imaginary estrogen-ic fueled love wounds, I guess there’s also a lot to thank you for. Apart from being that fire that burned so intensely under my fleshy palm, you ended up being one heck of a lesson learned.
Thank you for teaching me that I should never put something on the table that I don’t want anybody else to start eating. For teaching me the importance of modesty and how intense of a feeling lust can be (am I preaching to the menstruation nation?).
You also taught me to NEVER accept any type or form of conditional love from a man and to even forgive those around me who have not asked for forgiveness. Thank you for helping me set my standards higher in the love department because with it came a certain level of self-respect. Finally, thank you so much for having featured in my life – you were never really a regret but instead a lesson learned that I surely deserve better.
That Fresher *freshman* That Didn’t Know Any Better.
*Blogger’s note… Hey ya’al.I don’t generally swear on the blog but my intention is to keep these letters as real as possible.Directly from the writer to the reader because these are real situations with real people. Don’t forget to follow me on Bloglovin’0