"Choose me, or lose me.” He laughed, “I don’t do ultimatums.”
I had an idea of what my game plan was if you were to ever find your way back to me. It involved driving you beyond the brink of madness. Causing you to eat, sleep, breathe nothing but thoughts of me swirling around that demented head of yours. What does my hair look like today? Am I wearing that one perfume? Mmmm what panties? I wanted you to want me so much that you feared what you’d do to call me yours. And then? I’d leave without so much of a fucking trace. A hunger for me like nothing you’ve known before, and poof, gone. I pictured what you’d look like after. Definitely in your favorite bar on 25th, drinking the addiction of me away, looking around the room trying to find my closest look-a-like.
The thought of this made me so happy with hate, it was almost sexual. Like I’d fuck your best friend in spite of you type shit. I’d wait maybe a year; most people tend to move on at that point. Then, surprise! I’ve resurfaced once more to torment you again. At this point I’d make you believe I wanted you too, that I left because I was uncertain of being vulnerable to you again. That I had ‘second thoughts’. I’d whisper familiar promises, you know the ones you said to me? I’d create this fictional life where you get to marry me and we live in that red brick house.. And then one night, I invite you out to a bar, say to find me when you get there. That’s when you’d finally feel what I did for so long..
I’d be on the dance floor, in that skirt you said showed my ass off, and I’d be with someone else. Kissing, and grinding on someone who will never be you. Once our eyes met, I’d give you a smile so chilling you’d see it in your nightmares. I wanted to be your undoing, the girl who took everything you were and crushed it beyond repair. I told myself it was only fair that you have to pick up your pieces like I did. Only fair that you finally love me, and lose me.
But then? I guess I let myself move on. That amount of hate I had for you only lingered when my heart was broken. When I told myself no one could ever make me feel like you did. I was right, no one ever will again.. I deserve to be loved, and you never did. I allowed myself to find someone who knew what he wanted. A man with concrete plans and a love for me that couldn’t ever be replicated. He’s not you, and I think that’s what I love the most.
So now, three years later, you’ve resurfaced. Heartbroken, pathetic, and in the worst shape I’ve seen of you. There’s claims of you being ‘obsessed’ with me, unable to move on from what we had. You couldn’t imagine at how hard I laughed at that. What exactly did we have? Remember titles weren’t your thing? Apparently neither was an adult sized bed.. (You’ve ruined car sex for me I hope you know.) Yeah, no. I’m good, guys like you are merely stepping stones to men we actually settle down with. Also, that girl who broke your heart, you know, the one with my name and my similiar face? We are friends now, thanks so much for bringing us together! We talk all the shit on you, it's fun.
Thanks, for showing me what I absolutely don’t want in a person. Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it?