Eva

You say you don't know wether you want to continue playing. that you're showing your cards but I am not and this is so off-putting. You say you're losing interest. And I, unaware of any ingenie de l'ecalière, don't come with the right words: "which game?" "have you only been playing until now?" "interested in what, exaclty? say it". No. The only thing I can do, with my heart twitching and pounding and my hands sweating, is to apologize and say I'm sorry and say it's just the way I am, and I am twisted and I told you there's something wrong with me and I am sorry.

Fuck off. (yeah, why not?)

And you repeat I've got issues. What do you mean, by the way? Every time you see anything wrong with me you say I've got issues. Like what, like your suicidal maniac exgirlfriend? No thankyou. Not quite like that. Twisted, yes. Awkard, yes. Arrogant, perhaps. But not that I have "issues". And you just go and spit out "oh you've missed me. I can tell that". Excuse me? You can tell what, exactly? What, X? I don't give a damn about what you think. I mean, it's all up to you. I was nervous, true. Leading the talk, true. Fast-pounding chest, true. But you don't know any of what I've been through. And thats what pisses me off mostly. Yup. Because for you its only
(and as simple as) about missing you. But you can't realize calm waters run deeper, and I can't tell you. I simply won't on a white screen, not apologizing for that. And your arrogance. You, conceited prick. Your self-esteem raised over the top with that, innit? Sadly enough, I feel inconsistently unable to tell you the -thing?-.
God that's so utterly lame. The sleepless nights. So many of them. Nights of waiting for an answer. Followed by nights waiting for any kind of date or hanging around. Days of empty inboxes. More nights without answers. Smiles and "yeah, tomorrow". For sure. Such a dickhead I am. Followed by nights of waiting for a hello. That was the largest part. Still waiting anyway. But now, just waiting for a showing up, for a "uh, he's alive" relief. Idiot self-esteemless. Can't go through this again. Not once more, please. Not twice in this fucking shit-hole (thankyou). Not twice in this fucking country. Whatever is wrong with you, just spit it out, just say it. I can't take more silences and hopes and fears. that Is insane. And killing. Literally soul-ripping. Not anymore, please. If you don't show up, I'll go thinking you just got tired. And it's fair enough, but, tell me, is it too much to ask for an explanation, for an "not anymore, i met someone else"?? What the hell, I reckon you, no, not, everyone, all of them, thought I was about to make a pissoff. To make a drama of it. Is that the reason why anyone never tells me anything? Can't believe it!!
I don't understand why on earth do I look so drama queen-like. No, really. Kind of funny if it weren't happening to me, actually. yeh. Well, just for the record, I won't be acting like desperate, or menacing to kill myself. Like others, huh? (wink wink) Nah. Not my style. Though as never anyone really gave me the opportunity to be in such a situation, can't be 100% sure. But anyway I'm sure on a 99% . It's enough for me, if it's not for you then it's your problem.
Besides, why would I expect anything else? Or anything more? I don't, I swear. No need for a Charming prince. I am much aware of the current situation (ours?) which means that I won't be demanding more of it. No factible. Almost impossible. Those are facts. So no need to scare out about my expectations regarding this. And no need for you to think I'm so deeply into you. Noooo, please, please. You've got a lot of faults, by the way. Did you ever notice it , or ever came across any of them? I hate you sometimes. The more I shut, the more you talk. Oh, that one is good too: missing what exaclty, by the way? missing you? what does that mean, exactly? did you ever go off? go out? because i just saw you like always. you were there. you weren't talking to me or paying attention or FB-liking. but you were definitely there. I kew it, you knew it. I don't know your reasons or leitmotifs. You know them. Frankly, I don't care at all about it now. Time has past. Not curious. One of your highest mistakes, and for which, I tell you, as much as I'd like to, I will never ever be able to forgive you, is how hard you pushed me that time. you made me sick, you made me hurl all that crap about me, about me doing drugs, about me nailing others, and your intrinsic interest on my numbers. What for? I don't give a shit for all those answers. They re not really important. There is nothing in my answers you will be able to use to understand me better or to make you decide if I am worth some time spending or not. And it's a great error to think you can decide thinks like that just basing on the answers -true or not, can't prove any of it- I tell you. Fuck you for that. It was outrageous, and you were only blackmailing me, and I don't even know what was I about to loose if I did not... if perhaps I had already lost it before. Most probably I did loose it before.
I'm tired of it. I'm tired of thinking about this. I'm tired of so much misery. I am a wasted land, as simple as that. And I am tired of thinking about all that stuff throughout sleepless nights whilst I am so utterly uncapable of telling you -wether on a screen or meeting your eyes-.
Screw you.

Screw you, screw you, screw you. Goodnight. You deserve a small part of my suffering. A tenth percent of it at least.