Listen: is there any point to this insulting little coded internet breadcrumb-trail game of yours? That is, any point other than you getting off by fucking with my head? Hm? This is fucking demeaning- and of course it is, what did I expect? This isn’t a fun experience for me; I don’t enjoy seeing this pathologically narcissistic jerkface with psychotic tendencies brag about his goddamn Colorado Valentines Day skiing vacation with his new fucking wife-and-family-playset…especially when it’s the same individual who gave me nothing but sorrow, betrayal, and cruelty when I was at a low point in my life. Signaling “I love you” in concealed semaphore on the internet won’t ever be enough, in any sense. Even that has to be disguised as something else. I know this cowardly, controlling game of yours is all I’m ever going to get from you.
I shouldn’t even be giving you this level of attention anymore. Keeping an eye on you only gives you the opportunity to throw more of your baseball signals at me to try to fuck with my head and wring more blood out of my heart; it’s not in my best interest.
Laura Palmer said…
All the hidden manipulation and teasing that’s baked into your poems and posts…laced with granular amounts of withheld, hinted-at love- or is it cyanide? After all your lies and masks, why? There’s nothing here for me, and I don’t think you ever have any intention of ever talking, let alone anything else. It just keeps making me feel sad, and I’ve had more hurt and heartache than I can stand. Why?
Comments
Listen: is there any point to this insulting little coded internet breadcrumb-trail game of yours? That is, any point other than you getting off by fucking with my head? Hm?
This is fucking demeaning- and of course it is, what did I expect? This isn’t a fun experience for me; I don’t enjoy seeing this pathologically narcissistic jerkface with psychotic tendencies brag about his goddamn Colorado Valentines Day skiing vacation with his new fucking wife-and-family-playset…especially when it’s the same individual who gave me nothing but sorrow, betrayal, and cruelty when I was at a low point in my life. Signaling “I love you” in concealed semaphore on the internet won’t ever be enough, in any sense. Even that has to be disguised as something else. I know this cowardly, controlling game of yours is all I’m ever going to get from you.
I shouldn’t even be giving you this level of attention anymore. Keeping an eye on you only gives you the opportunity to throw more of your baseball signals at me to try to fuck with my head and wring more blood out of my heart; it’s not in my best interest.