here i am, at 1:09, crying over you. again. again for maybe the thousandth time. crying over a man who never loved me but always said he did, a man who has wasted the past year of my life (11 months yesterday), a man who has abused me and manipulated me. but here i am, months after swearing you off, a month after letting you back in, crying over you. again. again for maybe the thousandth time.
crying because i miss your abuse after cutting it off again just a few days ago. i miss your abuse. never did i think i would ever crave abuse like i crave yours. but i miss every inch of it. i crave it when i’m feeling down because, fuck, you always manage to validate my self-deprecating thoughts.
so here i am, on a particularly hard friday, calling you up. only to be told: i was right. we’re not meant to be: “you need to move on.” spitting back in my face the same exact fucking words i spit in yours a few days ago.
and just like that, i’m erased from that long list of girls you call up when you’re lonely. and i know that’s a good thing. i know it is. i don’t need to be told lies anymore.
but darling i would lap up every single fucking lie to ever fall from that beautiful mouth of yours.
i hope you call me up again.
