It’s silly how I try and make myself feel almost ok by manufacturing plans in my head. I thought about just accepting what was on offer and making the best of it…and thinking that nearly helped. I thought about weekends, castles…trips…dinners…and I still held on to a shred of false hope…but I wasn’t ok, and I wasn’t going to be either.
But I’m tired of waiting for my phone to light up, I’m tired of waiting for a knock on the door, and I’m tired of waiting for what will never happen. I want too much. I want it all…and how stupid of me.
Such a hopeless case, and so doomed to failure. Wow, but I expected more. I’m exhausted; I’m all used up and finished. There is just nothing left. It was too big of an ask…and all that is left is this…A shitty situation with no solution.
My dignity is shot, my words are meaningless, and on a ladder of significance I sit a few rungs below algae. I’ve never been so shameful.
Yet I keep wanting to fight, but I don’t know what for. All that I could have said…is said. And said. And there is no more. So what then?
I did expect more of a fight. But that was just it really…there wasn’t enough. Just not enough to fight for. So my answer is clear and obvious.
Hmph! I wanted an assurance that it was going to be ok, but love is not enough and I wont be so foolish again to suppose that it is.