#45 | untitled
do you think of me often? if you're wondering how i feel, the answers are here: i feel worthless, a waste of space and air and time. i feel inferior to a man. a man would take better care of you. i'm sure he is, the way he was slowly trying to spend time alone with you, rely on you, be there for you, fill the gaps i couldn't. it's easier to depend on him because he's a man; he is strong, and I am not. even worse—like every man, he's so obviously in love with you, but this time, you let him in anyway. he's an exception to your rule, permitted while i've been locked out. how ironic that you of all people would do this to me. i could just throw up. you think i'm just weak-minded, like i can't understand you when i embraced your entire soul for five years. maybe you just felt too seen by me. my mere presence forced you to be vulnerable when you didn't want to be. have you considered the impossible position of being pushed far away for months and yet admonished for even trying to bridge the distance?
doesn't matter. in the end, i was just a mistake, an aberration you regret coming out for. i wasn't enough for you. how fucking cruel you were. i held you more than you held me in those last few months, but received nothing but an "i appreciate everything you've done." i'll never be able to erase that text message from 3000 miles away, a text you didn't say sorry about, even when i told you how much it hurt me. i'm impatient, unhelpful, unreliable, everything you said i was. even less—i'm nothing at all.