Ouch.

I am tired of biting my tongue, tired of choking back words better left unsaid but longing to be spoken. I am tired of being a floor mat for my thoughts allowing them to trample on me as I tie up the bitch that is lusting after freedom.

People snap at me and I avoid spitting my venom back in their faces where it belongs, because I care for them and therefore should be walked all over. I am sick of it. It is deceitful on my part to me and to them. I am not always this sunshiny happy air headed moron, and I am weary from trying to be so.

I listen day in and day out about how horrid he is and blah blah blah, but she can’t take a few minutes from me on any subject without getting that glazed look in her eyes letting me know that my problems don’t exist in her world, that I don’t exist in her world. She complains that she’s a bad friend but we both know that’s fucking bullshit, she is a great friend most of the time, she’s just too wrapped up in her shit to give a damn about mine, and that’s fine but I should be allowed the same luxury. I think he’s a nice guy, to me anyway, and I honestly enjoy talking to him. I know he’s a fucking bastard a great deal of the time but he doesn’t hide it, he revels in it. She’s the one who let herself get so captivated by him that getting off of this drug feels like death. Maybe I’m just a cold hearted bitch, maybe I’m just objective.

And him I want to rip open his chest and tear out his heart, squeeze it until it can beat no more, because sometimes that’s what it feels like he’s doing to me. We are no longer together but I still keep my sword in my mouth for fear of hurting him. Those puppy dog eyes, that sad quaver, its pathetic and it disgusts me that it works every time. Censorship without thought, wretched as it may be. It is my life, it is my bed I refuse to lie in it any longer.

I am ready to move on, in more ways than one, I am ready to become a whole woman instead of a self-oppressed silly little girl. It is time for the bitch to smile.