Actually, i've stopped writing altogether, and that's not good, because I made a promise to myself that I would keep on writing no matter what. But my procrastinence has gotten the best of me. In addition to this cool weather, which has me feeling even more frigid than usual, I've been moving extra slow.
I don't even feel like writing. Supposed to be doing character sketches. but can't bring myself to it. Maybe i'm afraid that it will be half-hearted. So much shit has been taking place lately. Having to do a whole lot of load shedding. And although i feel lighter, it's more of a light-headed feeling. Non-groundedness.
Imagine this. You realise in one moment, that you've been holding on to something that was never yours to begin with and that you've been spending the past few years of your life convincing yourself that you're not holding on, but you really were. Reality is a big hand, and when that bitch smacks you across the face it leaves a lasting mark. And trust me I've been hotboxed by reality.
What is it with men who have women? Why do they always want me? and why can't these women see that I am not the problem, that I quite possibly may be the solution. Didn't they realise that the reason that their man no longer argued with them about futile things, or seemed a bit more calm and relaxed was because of me.
Yes, it was I who gave him the release that he yearned for. That pent up frustration continually fostered by being in your presence. So here I am trying to make ure sham of a fairy tale existence a little bit more tolerable and you have the audacity to call me, requesting my separation?
Well your wish is my command. No longer will I listen to his plans to leave you or entertain his fantasies of the things he longs to do to me, never to you. I will now allow you to perish on your own. So while you revel in the fact that "is him a breathe inna yuh face a night time" you remember this. I am the one that he dreams about while he sleeps. It is my body that he longs to caress. and it is you my dear that is the fool. Living in your paradise. Holding on to a man who wants nothing more than to run free.
I hope you women are all content, content in the knowledge that in a world where we all just want to be wanted, you are wanted by noone. Not even by the man who takes your things and your money and abides with you while biding his time. Waiting for the most opportune moment to leave.
And the next time you call my phone and hang up, you remember this. He will always want me. While he tells you all the things you long to hear, he is subconciously wishing you were me.
And I know it must hurt. That is why you call me, pleading with me to put an end to this. But I can't stop this, only you can. Because men can sense pathetic desperation and it repels them.
It's women like you that give men the power to do whatever they want. You silly silly woman.
So the next time he calls me begging for my time I will send him back to you, knowing within myself that the more I reject him is the more he wants me, and the more he wants me is the less he wants to be around you, and the more you will call, but if you are gunna call, say whats on ure mind, so I can give you a piece of mine. Because is me yuh man want! Him a look mi! While you a mine him! Him a long afta mi!
You coulda wife or common law til you blue inna di face. It don't change a damn thing!
I are the one and you are just another ignorant female.
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