I'll Tell You Why

I hate people touching my things. Yea, I’m so bloody materialistic aren’t I. I don’t think that I can buy your affection nor do I even want to try.

I buy things for people as and when I feel like it. It doesn’t mean that I value one over the other does it? Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. It is not your concern. There are some things that I choose to tell others and some that I choose to tell no one.

Again, this is my business not yours. I’m not obligated to do as you say. Sure there are times when I ask and I listen but if you think that even for one second that I actually am thinking of letting you run every aspect of my life, you are clearly mistaken.



Sometimes I wonder why I even bother to try and understand where you’re coming from. Oh, that’s right, I LOVE you don’t I. I question if you feel the same way sometimes. It’s kind of hard when you can be so hypocritical. I gave everything up for you and you can’t even acknowledge that.

You ask me to do so many things and I’ve done them with little or no complaints. Even though most of them are things that I would normally never agree to. God, it’s amazing how frustrating this is. Why is it amazing? I’ll tell you why. It’s amazing that I can feel so much energy and so much anger and yet the minute I see you I shove it all to the back of my head where it doesn’t show but it still hurts. Why you bother to even feint ignorance is completely beyond me.

Do you know what it does to me? Do you even care about how I feel?



Telling you like that may have been the biggest blow I’ve ever dealt to you. No, I’ve not forgiven you nor have I actually forgiven myself. I told you I couldn’t. But I said what I had to and now I sit here and wonder if I should have. I wonder if I’ve made a huge mistake. Because here I am, I’ve given as much as I possibly could, I’ve given more than I’ve given anyone. More than I would sacrifice for Luke, for Jon, for my own kin. And that’s really saying something isn’t it. Go ahead, ask. What are the things that I’ve done for the people dearest to me? To the people I keep closet to my heart. Some of them look at me and wonder why I deny myself happiness. Some have reprimanded me because I’ve done things that they think are stopping me from becoming the person I can be. And now that I’ve rectified it, I look again and wonder if they knew what they were talking about. On a certain level, yes, they were right.

But now, from where I’m standing, from the position that I am in, I’m completely screwed. And I would love nothing better than to fix this right now. But as much as I’d like to believe it is, this story isn’t about me. Sure I’m not perfect. Heck, I pride myself as being completely imperfect. I have never expected anything of you except to be true. Even that you couldn’t do for me. I have nothing to say. But still, I care too much to let you go. I’m afraid. You’re hurting me in more ways than you’ll ever know.