Lately I've been introspecting. What kind of a fool was I? Yes there are varieties. I came up with an answer too. I was the masochistic kind. Once, a friend told me that I seemed like a cold hearted bitch (he meant it in the nicest way) and that comment.. well it stuck. I felt like I really did have no emotions. That was scary. Did I not feel? Was I cold, apathetic? Just like the rest of my family? No, of course not. I could feel... I'd show them.
So I came to him. And they told me he'd hurt me. And I didn't care. Because I wanted to see, you know? See how much he could possibly hurt me. How far would he be able to break me? Ah, but this one was cruel. He didn't come with a sleek blade. No, he came at my heart with a dull axe. Bouts of pain, but hey, I made it through! Until the last one. No, that last attempt really pretty much cracked it. So I withdrew it; my heart, that is. Now its slightly deformed, slightly mangled, in need of repair. It needs to catch its breath, but it's still there pumping. But I showed them. I was capable of emotion! Who's laughing now?
The thing is, I'm over it. But only because I have to be. Because it would be the most stupid thing in the history of the universe (except for the invention of the plastic duck for the tub) to go back. I know that. They know that. Everyone knows that. But that doesn't mean I can't keep glancing at my phone every once in a while. It doesn't mean I can't read his old messages. It doesn't mean I can't go through the past in my head.
It doesn't mean I can't regret what won't come back. Oh, and who died? Well, Bob did. Remember him? Yeah a cleaver couldn't kill him, but a kiss gone astray could.