no doubt, I am living in a fucking soap opera. only the script is even more bizarre than in the ones on tv. 
coz this is apparently my reality.
so, here is the message i've pressed the *send* button on last night.
***
You say you hate me.
You should.
After all, your biggest fear, namely that one day you will no longer see your own face when you look in the mirror has come to be and it has knocked the wind out of you.
I finally clued in why you did not remember my name: you needed all your energy not to go blind in addition to immediately becoming deaf the moment we walked into each other, at city hall, with fucking bells ringing.
I can sit two feet from you, smile, and say: “I am not listening. I can’t hear a word you are saying” and you shut up and sigh. Because, my dear, the lessons meant for your classroom will ever apply when it comes to you and me.
I can look at you with the smallest wrinkle on my nose and you know that you are dead because I am fully aware of the desperate measures you are taking not to break down and let go of however you used to define yourself.
The day you stop kicking and screaming is the day you will comprehend that resistance is utterly futile. That day you shall grasp that all I had ever asked for is now obliterate, really, because there is nothing left of you after I am gone.
Considering that you had it all. At one point, you had you and you had me. Which, clearly, is one and the same.
You really should hate me.
coz this is apparently my reality. so, here is the message i've pressed the *send* button on last night.
***
You say you hate me.
You should.
After all, your biggest fear, namely that one day you will no longer see your own face when you look in the mirror has come to be and it has knocked the wind out of you.
I finally clued in why you did not remember my name: you needed all your energy not to go blind in addition to immediately becoming deaf the moment we walked into each other, at city hall, with fucking bells ringing.
I can sit two feet from you, smile, and say: “I am not listening. I can’t hear a word you are saying” and you shut up and sigh. Because, my dear, the lessons meant for your classroom will ever apply when it comes to you and me.
I can look at you with the smallest wrinkle on my nose and you know that you are dead because I am fully aware of the desperate measures you are taking not to break down and let go of however you used to define yourself.
The day you stop kicking and screaming is the day you will comprehend that resistance is utterly futile. That day you shall grasp that all I had ever asked for is now obliterate, really, because there is nothing left of you after I am gone.
Considering that you had it all. At one point, you had you and you had me. Which, clearly, is one and the same.
You really should hate me.
