Not this time

I want to ask you just who you think you are. What makes you think that you can try to use me when I'm at my lowest. Don't tell me you're being a friend to me, you never have been and I certainly don't want you as one now.

My vision is clouded right now and my judgment may be impaired but I'm clever enough to see when someone is being fake and I'm still strong enough to push you away. I do not need you, and I never have.

You call yourself a close friend, when the only time you ever needed our friendship was when you were feeling low and down and needed an ego boost. Well, not any more. The tables have turned, and now that for once, in the almost five years that we've known each other, I need someone, you're not interested in anything apart from what you can gain from it.

I'm not going to be your play thing, that you pick up and throw around when you're bored. Don't think I don't see through you, don't think I can't see that you're only interested in me because there's nobody better around. One day, though, you'll realise that it's hard to get better than the person who stays awake for hours to talk you through your make-believe problems while trying to deal with their own at the same time.

And I can guarantee you, that you will miss me. Because the next time you want me, I won't be there. And that's a promise that I'm keeping.

Goodbye to you, I hope you find someone else to be your emotional trampoline.

Final Curtain

That's that then. Time's up, and on we go, living our seperate lives again. Love is a fickle mistress, unquestionably, sneaking up behind you and capturing you with no warning, and turning around and leaving you, cold, numb and shivering in the dark just as quickly, taking with it everything it gave you and more. Uncaringly fleeing, while you struggle to feel the ground under your feet once more, to piece together the shattered fragments of your broken heart, and fail to find the light that was once the future that you will never have.

Each sight, each sound, and each smell is nothing but a reminder of what you once had, but failed to keep. Each well meaning cliche is a stab to the heart, the heart that has already taken more than it can handle.

Time is passing, each forgotten day marked with a black cross, each cross made with the relief of getting through another day, and the reluctance to do it all again, day after day.

The days are coming easier now, and the time spent thinking about the unseen loss is less than it was the day before. And hopefully one day, not too far away, I'll wake up and not miss having someone there with me. Hearing my own heartbeat will be satisfaction enough.

Until then though, I'll struggle on, and if anyone asks how I'm doing, I'll tell them I'm doing just fine. I'll laugh at their jokes, and probably won't fake it. I'll smile more than I cry, and I'll try to stop holding myself together because I'm afraid I'll fall apart if I don't.

I'll get there.

But I won't be the same person anymore.

Dripping black from your tongue

You're poison. There is no other way to describe you right now. How can you call yourself a friend when you have the ability to hurt someone the way you did?

You claim to never tell a lie, and you are somehow able to fool people. I'm not fooled. I know what you are. You lie to protect yourself, at the expense of others, no matter how close you claim to be to them. Spineless. Unable to deal with the consequences that your own actions may have on you, you bury others with them.

Spiteful, and poisonous. I always knew you were capable of it. I've seen just how much now. I don't think there is any coming back from this. I hope, for your sake, that few others see the side of you that I have, you will be a very lonely person if they do. Keep playing your game, hiding the real you, and hurt who you have to in the process. You've done it before, I have no doubt that you will do it again.

I wash my hands of you though. I am not emotionally stable enough to deal with your games. My head is not in the right place to not take everything you say and do towards me personally, and I don't need that. I cannot have it, and I refuse to try.

I'm not saying goodbye to this twisted excuse for a friendship that we have, but I am loosening the ties. I hold the scissors but you are the one who'll force my hand.

Freefall

It's almost too easy. Something has to go wrong, because there's no way it could possibly go so right for any length of time. You're turning into more than I thought you ever would, than I ever contemplated possible. Unknowingly, I let you under my skin, and you seem comfortable, happy to stay there. You've been able to do what nobody has done before, and that scares me in the most exhilirating of ways.

I'm throwing myself in at the deep end here. I don't know how to swim, I just hope I don't sink.

Turning point

I realise now that I was fooling myself. I never wanted you. I wanted to think I did, because it stopped me feeling so empty. You would have been bad for me though, I would have been bad for you. Your feelings were bordering on obsession, mine on apathy. Wrong from the start. Unhealthy. But I wish you well, and I want nothing but the best for you. I'm in a better place now. I'm starting to see myself with new eyes. You didn't do that for me, I didn't do it for myself, an outside force is to thank for this turnaround.

Regardless of the source, which may be fleeting, the future is never stable..regardless, this may be the turning point. A new me.

Two faces of the same old coin

I don't like who you become when he's here. You're not the person I've known forever. You're smug. Selfish. Aloof. Judgemental. He's nothing special you know. He lies too. He's dishonest. You know this and it makes you overly defensive and protective. I can't understand it.

But I'll sit in silence until it passes, I'll get rid of your tear-stained tissues when he leaves. Again.

This world is harsh and cold

Call me names? Accuse me of being something that I'm not? That says far more about you than me. The quality that you saw in me is still there, it's just not directed at you anymore. That's not just my fault. You wanted to smother me, make me yours and keep me in a box, but I fought back. And that's what pissed you off. That's what you can't handle.

Would you have rathered lies? Pretended to have feelings that weren't really there? Then I would deserve the names you call me, the accusations you throw at me. But go ahead. I can take it. I can be the bigger person, and you can be the child. I've moved on, and you're the one stuck in the past.