If Looks Could Kill

If looks could kill, you would have dropped dead the moment you entered through the door.

I'm sick of being ignored. I'm sick of calling, calling, calling just to get an undeniably quick response from your voice mail. That was convenient, huh. I'm sick of text messages that go without response. I can imagine you picking up the phone and looking, but apparently it takes too much effort to write a word or two back. I'm sick of writing letters that I find on the coffee table, not even worthy enough to have been opened.

It makes me sick to my stomach. I make myself sick to my stomach. Why I have put so much effort into you, I may never know. It is not a balanced relationship. There is no reciprocation.

I talk, and talk, and talk a little more. I try to explain things. I try to express things. I try to reach out when I am feeling down, low, worthless and used. You "don't want to talk about it". You never want to talk about it. I'm just the idiot who constantly thinks you just might care. You don't care, you haven't for a long time.

I ask if you are in love with me. You "don't know" or "sometimes" are. How do you think that makes someone feel? You don't just "sometimes" love someone. You "don't know" if you love someone? Why waste my time then? Why be here knowing how much this is killing me? Why? Convenient location? Financially easy?

"I haven't done anything". That's exactly right, you haven't done ANYTHING. You haven't put an ounce of effort into this relationship or towards me whatsoever.

Like having borderline personality disorder isn't hard enough.