lettersfromimogen

i'm not sure what you've been up to lately.

but i'm positive that i don't fucking like it.

have met boy over the interwebs.he is lovely.

it was actually the time you told me that you had sex with some random woman you weren't in love with that made me realize i could never love you or trust you ever again.

most of you fucked things up because you wanted everything to be so goddamned real.

i've asked my new boy friend to stay imaginary forever.

                                                                                               and he's promised to try. 

my therapist says that i don't have abandonment issues. she says that when people care about one another, it's perfectly normal to feel completely gutted and emotional by the loss. in fact, because you seem so delusional and lack any sense of remorse about the way you bolted when you realized that life requires participation, she said you sound like a real sociopath.

    , after you blocked the door screaming at me like a wild-unpaid-whore about how you were going to call the police and have me arrested if i didn't leave immediately.

    i was the idiotic one who agreed to back together with you

my dearest,

you know all those times you swore and brooded and fucked my feelings for you inside out that this one or that one or any and every single man who ever paid me never-mind really just wanted to have sex with me?

well, if i'm being honest . . . since your constant paranoia tore us apart, i've finally begun to realize that you were completely right. 

not that i cared about anyone but you at the time. 

but at the moment, knee deep in the proof of your pudding, i have half a mind to send you a thank you card.

thank fucking christ you were right. about this one.

yours always.

xx 

making soup

being crazy

neediness

not giving up

feeling fitfully and completely in [insert whatever emotion might be right here]

obsessed

wanting to be only exactly what she is

obsessive

compulsive

packing away large quantities of alcohol 

passive agressive

striving for perfection

being brutally honest

moody

intense

analyzing

giving great head

questioning

requiring

talking

debating

being silent

tummy sack. full.

fuck you. and all. 

shame shame shame

i just realized, a second ago, that there was that one weird moment where you suggested that we write something together, and i pointed out to you that penultimate meant 'before the ultimate' not 'the ultimate' or more than 'the ultimate', in which you must have fallen out of love with me. because you really started treating me like shit, then, and you've never asked me to write anything with you since.

i'm not bothered by your sudden flight(s) and disappearance(s) from my life. the thing you might have forgotten is that you've always done this. over and over again. and i've gotten tired of chasing. this. which is, sadly, all you seem to have to offer.