There's a Dark Secret In Me

I am in a funny mood today. I am happy-ish, but I had a dream last night about an ex of mine from a long time ago, and its put me in a funk. So I wrote about it. I think it helped. I'll post something happy later on, I promise.

Love you all-
AG

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I’ve been sitting here, hours now, trying to think of something else. But I can’t. I can’t get you out of my mind. You are the smoke that fills a bar. I’ve drawn deeply off of you, and now you are there, lingering about the air and permeating every thought I have. In my hair, in my mouth, on my skin. I can’t get rid of you. Just like being warned about the dangers of smoking, I’ve carried on a habit too long, and now I’ve gotten hurt.

I thought it would be safe. There was no danger in you. You are mild. Soft and gentle. There’s nothing in you that can reach in a devastate a cold heart like mine. I told myself that then, but now I know that is not the case. I should have seen it strait away.

You made the move. That should have been the first clue. I never would have expected that. You wanting me, and saying so with the most plain gesture you could have made. When you pulled me tight to you and leaned down to kiss my neck, I should have run. Fast and far, I should have jumped the train and been out of there. But I turned to look at you and I could see your eyes shining with that deceptive softness. You had a completely unreadable expression about you and I mistook it. I thought you cared.

I was wrong, that much I am sure of now. But when you started kissing me harder, when you slid your arms around me waist and whispered to me suggestions of things that had up to that point only been late night wanderings, how could I have said no to you then? How could I turn my back on something I had wanted for so long?

It almost leaves me cold now, when I think of the press of your body against mine. It makes me a little sick inside to think of the things I must have whispered to you in my need to be close to you. You were laughing on the inside, weren’t you? Having a good little joke at my expense while I was giving myself up to you in the most complete way I could?

I feel like a silly girl now. Much the way you must have seen me, fawning on you, telling you how much I loved you, never caring that you never echoed my sentiments or even showed a fraction of the emotion I was choking on I was so full of it.

I should have seen it. I should have. I should have taken notice that our conversation died, that I never saw you but the times you wanted me. I should have seen how you shrugged me off on public and how your friends gave me looks I couldn’t read, but now know were a cross between pity and amusement. I was a fool for you, and you let me be one. You let me be a complete fool.

Why, why would you have not told me the truth? Who is to say I wouldn’t have still been with you, but the least I would have been able to do was protect myself. You didn’t, I couldn’t and now I am here with the feeling of you lingering on me in a way I can’t wash off and can’t forget. I still dream about you and that deceptively sweet smile that mistook for understanding and that gentle tone that I know you must practice at home when you are by yourself.

At this moment, I loathe you almost as much as I loathe myself for letting me get to this place where I can’t forget you and all I want to do is erase it all, and make it to where it never happened. What makes me hate myself more, and this will amuse you, is I still wake up from those dreams of you, caught between this feeling of anger I have now and a desperate longing for you. I wake up and I wish I was still in your arms and I hate myself for it.

When I lay in my bed and think of you and I let the tears come they are still tears of regret that things weren’t the way I wanted them to be, and feelings of doubt, that maybe if I had been more, tried harder, you would have loved me the way I loved you. My chest is aching from that feeling, and my stomach turned over from it, because I know the truth, and I have to keep telling it to myself.

You used me. You made a fool of me. I loved you. You didn’t deserve it.