I’ve come to a realization tonight. I am a fucked up mess. Or at least I was.
You see, I push my guys to cheat. Its what I do. I push and push until they have no choice.
I’m rather demanding like that. I like to get my way. So if they cheat first, then its okay and expected that I retaliate and cheat too.
Then we both feel the pain. We bicker and fight and feel the fucking pain.
Somewhere along the way I picked up on this frequency that cheating was the only way I could feel the love. Otherwise I doubted its existence at all.
Without feeling all the agony of having my heart ripped from its chest and winning my score too, could I really be in love?
I didn’t used to think so. Amazingly enough, I believed that nonsense. In a twisted macabre way, it was the only thing I believed was true.
Fucking lies. Lies I tell myself. Lies I listen to and they break my heart. And I feel the pain.
Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Like wearing a heavy ball and chain around my neck every day was fucking normal.
And yet, today, something was different.
As though the weight of this ball and chain shifted and became smaller and weighed no more than a ring around my finger.
My favorite piece of jewelry.
And that pain I anticipate every day fades away to anticipation of your kisses.
And I don’t have to bicker and fight with you.
I just have to love you.
So, I’m on a new frequency now.
With a happier more vibrant note.
Less discord and chaos.
I’m in the quiet of my mind, and I’m not afraid.