I am the logical choice, I look really great on  paper.

I am the one you most definitely should be with.

There are a few other things that make being with me more tolerable I know.

Of course, I am the best you’ve ever had, ever will have and the best you’ve ever lost.

They lose me when I get wise to them

The first couple of months, I am not  buying it. In fact they are usually the ones paying for it. Admittedly, there are very few things in life I do not excel at, one is innuendo of any sort. I am black and white. Spelled out or it goes over my head. It is when I try and decipher the smoke signals of innuendo Is when I find myself 12 months later run down by the mac truck of his reality. When the 8/10 glossy starts to fade and the lies are more brazen and have made you sloppy and the drugs have made your memory fuzzy. The fuzzy lies spoken to my sober ears, because I let you in. You and your fuzzy lies. That’s what you are made up of  

You forgot, I don’t, I never forget. You stopped liking me enough to protect me and keep me safe. I see that you never liked me. I was what made better sense than the life you have been hiding from me

I was the bandaid for your hangovers and enabled your contradictions.

Your words that contradict the attempts at corroborating your fuzzy nights and excuses.    

I remember what you said four months ago. You won’t, you never have. You’re clever, you came up with a personality that was useful so my good on paper mind didn’t see soon enough. I caught in too late, I should’ve let you keep stringing me along. I should have never found worth in myself. If I had, 4 months ago would just be four months ago. You would’ve been eradicated from my memory now. And another guy would be working on becoming the next 8/10 glossy. Never mine, just some taillights that I see when they’ve used me up enough to make them feel a bit more manly.

 

I don’t like it when I don’t understand things. Why do all the guys want to be the one I have to have to be the first in line. To believe the fuzzy shit I tell them to make them feel something other than my new run at the mill. I make them believe in me, they believe in my innocence and my undying integrity. They are so special, the so is fluffed by my sweet voice hypnotizing their sociopathic existence into believing they actually are my first love, that’s there’s no one else.

I act like the victim because they always get sloppy and careless. It’s human nature most normal people aren’t as twisted as I am. The guilt they feel after they have betrayed me and I launch my passive aggressive grenades I love seeing that pain in their eyes. That’s what I desire. Unjust vindication. That’s what gets me off.