Just wish you co y I’d watch how fucking lame you are. You think you are so cool, but everyone is laughing at you. Because you are not funny, you’re a joke. You do anything anyone says and people know it. You look dumb and everyone in this room is laughing at YOU. Not because it’s cute or cool..but lame .
Can I do anything right. Seriously. How is it possible that no matter what I do or have going on I get the short end of all the bad in your life. Dude i get nothing from you. Everyone else…whatever they want. Me. Ha. What a joke. I have to beg for attention. Beg to have some sort of feelings returned from you. I get bitched at no matter what. I don’t know how much more of this I can possibly take. I’ve always said I was the world’s punching bag, but the one thing I’ve always felt I had…is dishing out the fists. Time and time again. How would anyone think they are love. Why me. Why do I have to have these things keep happening in my life? Why am I not worthy of love? Can someone please just answer that for me. Straight up. I don’t want to be pitied I don’t want to be just told something positive. I want the answer to my question. Can I just be first? It’s not that hard. All I ask is for something, some sort of attention. I predict this now, tonight will be a disaster. We will fight, I’ll feel insecure, and it will end up me being afraid. Like always. I’m sick of the hurt. I can’t stand it. Please. No more of this. Please…
Annoying me. Everything you do, say, and gesture. Just ridiculous our fucking dog gets mote affection than I do. Pathetic. I do everything for you, share everything with you, and this is what I get. Pathetic. What do I have to,do or who do i have to be. I mean you’ve already taken all of my confidence. Made me feel fat, ugly, unattractive and just disgusting. Pathetic. Can I get a little recognition. Fuck if I don’t bring up my accomplishments, they just assume never have happened. You’re proud of me? Oh really? And how in the Fuck am I supposed to know that? Because you said it in a text message. Meanwhile everyone else had your damn attention. I’m tired of it. I’m beginning to wonder and question why I do so much, give so much, love so much. Fuck maybe it’s my fucking fault, maybe you’re too spoiled. The worst part of it all. Some other fucker that is HALF the man I am will get to enjoy it. He will reap what I have sewn. Fuck it. Story of my fucking life. I will always be alone and be wondering what it’s like to be loved back.
Throughout my lifetime I’ve left pieces of my heart here and there. And now, there’s almost barely enough to stay alive. But I force a smile, knowing that my ambition far exceeded my talent.
You can die of a broken heart — it’s scientific fact — and my heart has been breaking since that very first day we met. I can feel it now, aching deep behind my rib cage the way it does every time we’re together, beating a desperate rhythm: Love me. Love me. Love me.
Stole my confidence. Arent you supposed to make me feel good about myself? Shouldn’t I feel like I’m the best when I’m at my worst? How can I when you point out everything wrong? Who would feel like their significant other only has eyes for you, when they make note of your downsides or slight imperfections. I guess its supposed to be like this? I mean I guess I go about it in a different way. Then again, you’re not me. Does that mean that how you do these things is right? It seems when I’m feeling good and looking right, you point out the lent on my shirt or the slight wrinkle in my pants. Oh that one strand of hair is out of place. Thats shirt doesn’t match. Fix your hat this way. Now I’m self conscious. Now I’m finding the little things as well. Omg I cant go out like this. Why is she even with me. How can she be attracted to a guy like me. Who could ever love someone who looks like this….
Say please stay.
I shouldnt have to ask for time. I shouldn’t have to ask for a kiss or a hug. I do too much. You spend more time gone and aggravated than here with me. I fucking got a text saying you were depressed and in a funk. So I get off work early, go ahopping to make exactly what you asked for, even bought you flowers. Cleaned up, finished clothes. ..just for the phone call saying you were going again. How am I supposed to feel? Like you want to be here? Like I’m important…or maybe even first in your life…sure.
I’m so close. I’m just barely holding it together at this moment. I can barely type this. If my insides were visible. I can’t hold it together right now. You walk right by and act as if you don’t care. You see right past me. Everyone else gets your full attention and the one person you love gets the absolutely nothing. I’m screaming inside for you, but you can’t hear and its like you don’t care. How can this be. I get spit on bit its me. Well I cant help it anymore. I can’t carry the weight. I can’t keep it in line. I’m falling apart and you’re just standing there watching me…