so i stayed, but it wasn't what you think

a part two if you will to a previous piece i did. a venting tale you shall find, for all the things ill never say to you again.

So I'm "monologue-ing" now, isn't that what all the villains in the stories do? I decided I should stay and trust you, I figured that would be the best thing I would ever do. Loving you however came with a price, I fell even more hopelessly in love with you then I had with anyone in my life, you made me wonder why I wasted my time with any other person. Soon I had cut off every male that dare face you a challenge when it came to courting me. Of my own accord of course.  Decided " there was no competition and if there was you had already won." However life is funny isn't it, I found myself soon in the same position the girl that shared a name with a plant would complain about. I found that in her and the other ones mutual rage there was truth. I was no different. I am a star a thousand miles away from you and you decided the distance was too hard, but I keep recalling that you'd be leaving home for college anyway so even if I moved there you'd be gone shortly after anyway. A recurring thought would enter my mind "if I had gone, would you have taken what you wanted and still found the distance too hard when I returned home?" Its a painful thought to think of. To wake up and realize that you "upgraded" to a slimmer, newer and closer model then the model that gave you everything she had to offer. I loved you more then i'd loved anything in my past. You made me question everything and i liked it. My mothers been saying " there is a million out there just like him" and I still scream that I want you. I've realized though that since I've stopped messaging you first we have stopped talking completely. Only speaking when I initiate it and leaving me on read for hours when you would've replied within moments just a few weeks ago. So when did it change, was it when you met your childhood friend or when I entered your snap chat and found the pictures she'd saved sent between you both, when I had called you out on the pain you made me feel and I told you that you had made me feel worse then the ex lover that raped me had. Had I not attempted to save our streak per your request would I still live in the ignorant bliss that you loved me. No, I was never that dumb, your friends blocked me too, I'm assuming because they knew and couldn't handle the guilt of watching me post about you like you where some god while you tugged another girls heart strings. No man has ever stolen a first from you, you've just been giving it to them with how you "showed your love" I begged to skype with you, but you blew me off to see a movie with her instead and recorded it for the world to see. I dreamed of one day kissing you and feeling everything and you dreamed only of my body. We are not the same though, the world can see that now. I begged to try harder and you stopped trying instead. You hurt me worse then any other now though. It is your fault my heart breaks. You will live with knowing that. I will never show this to you but I know you'll see it some day. So i stayed, but it wasn't what I thought it'd be...

Reviews

[Alessander]

Venting is perfectly fine. In fact, Aristotle over 2,000 yrs ago argued that the main function of literature and art is to inspire catharsis, a sorta psychic blood letting, so that we can return to "ourselves" and not crack under the sturm-und-drang of every day life.

You strike on a lot of themes that everyone can relate to. The profound pang, the feeling of being overwhelmed and abandoned, questioning self-worth "you upgraded",

In my experience, love is a lot like a lock. It's not necessarily that one key or one lock is superior, just that some fit and some don't - often times we try to jam the wrong key into the wrong lock, and often one breaks.

There's a realization of that here I think "We are not the same though"...

I like the lil detail about the mom saying there's a million of him out there...

As a person gets older, that becomes more and more true to the point where a person no longer gets nervous on 1st dates, or just being around their other.
HOWEVER, that somewhat diminishes the magic of youth, the excitement, the lust, the passion, which make the bonds nearly unbreakable...it's a trade off, like much in life.

Anyhow, maybe this pulled me in because I too got off a 'break-up', so perhaps I needs some catharsis myself.

Good stuff. Sometimes ppl need to hear this.

[Alessander]

Venting is perfectly fine. In fact, Aristotle over 2,000 yrs ago argued that the main function of literature and art is to inspire catharsis, a sorta psychic blood letting, so that we can return to "ourselves" and not crack under the sturm-und-drang of every day life.

You strike on a lot of themes that everyone can relate to. The profound pang, the feeling of being overwhelmed and abandoned, questioning self-worth "you upgraded",

In my experience, love is a lot like a lock. It's not necessarily that one key or one lock is superior, just that some fit and some don't - often times we try to jam the wrong key into the wrong lock, and often one breaks.

There's a realization of that here I think "We are not the same though"...

I like the lil detail about the mom saying there's a million of him out there...

As a person gets older, that becomes more and more true to the point where a person no longer gets nervous on 1st dates, or just being around their other.
HOWEVER, that somewhat diminishes the magic of youth, the excitement, the lust, the passion, which make the bonds nearly unbreakable...it's a trade off, like much in life.

Anyhow, maybe this pulled me in because I too got off a 'break-up', so perhaps I needs some catharsis myself.

Good stuff. Sometimes ppl need to hear this.

[Chris]

The trouble with following writings somewhat randomly on a page is usually that some tie-ins are missed until you find them.

This is a behind your eyes look AND understanding of motivation - even wishes.

[Author Gus]

I like writers who put thought into blocking, even though I kind of hate that part of it myself. Which usually means that I critique what I call 'word blocks' with no spacing. Therefore it feels strange to say that I approve of it and think that it's a nice touch and, I believe, a contentious choice for this piece. It is a self-proclaimed rant. Everything flowing out all at once onto a page. It's meant to feel raw and unedited, a person's walls crumbling and whatever tangled mess is inside shining for the world to see.

[emmajoy]

'you made me feel and I told you that you had made me feel worse then the ex lover that raped me had.. ' How much more are you expected to accept? Are you so unimportant in your own eyes?

And thus your tragedy moves on and so sadly and dramatically. In a way, your dream-man is more monster than anything.. is unaware or uncaring about you, a past lover who gave him her heart, her loyalty, her body, only to be treated with near scorn.

Your writing is still fine, honest, explicitly caring.. but again, would like it broken into sections to give even more power to it. Nonetheless, will read more.. if you post more..