Leaving Town Means Never Having To Say You’re Sorry

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I have a tendency to not call back.

To take hours to respond to texts, only for you to finally receive one worded responses and empty promises to change.

I have a tendency to stop showing up on time, to stop showing up at all.

I can go days without saying a single word. Not to anyone, not even myself.

I think it was some sort of defense mechanism growing up. Trying my best not to make a fool out of myself, not to look stupid, not to say the wrong thing and have them leave again and again. I couldn’t let them leave again.

I haven’t spoke in two days.

I don’t know what it is you saw in me. I don’t know why you still think theres hope for you and I.

I destroy everything I touch and I can’t take responsibility for that, all I know how to do is run.

This is getting piece-y. I’m half packed and on my third glass. and your message is sitting in my inbox.

“How do you feel about me?” How the hell should I know.

I know.

I’m swallowing hard, down a throat that is sore from all the “I love you”s I choked on through my sobs last night. Shouting them to my walls and into my wine but never to you.

When you look at me, can you tell me you still see the same person you met 2 years ago? “Yes.” I can’t.

I’ve started smoking camel crush. The city’s hot and I pretend the menthol keeps me cool.

I’ve started drinking tequila and eating limes for lunch. I’m puking up “I miss yous” onto the Sweet & Vicious bathroom floor.

I’m self destructive and I know it. I don’t know how to stop.

I’m doing this for you.

No I’m not

I leave before I am left.

I decide. I’m in control.

I’m happy. I’m happy.

 

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