Your heart is so dark, that even Joseph Conrad
couldn’t see it, and it is so buried under bullshit
that even Poe’s cops couldn’t hear it.
Your mind is as empty as the libraries in Fahrenheit 451.
Your mind is as empty as Silas Marner’s coffers.
Your mind is as empty as Huckleberry Finn’s wallet.
- Excerpt from Lit (or: to the scientist I am not speaking to any more) by Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz
I don’t know exactly what I deserve, but now I know that I deserve so much better; so much more than you could ever give. I don’t want you back. Besides, YOU broke up with ME. And you’re getting your panties all bunched up because I won’t reply to your texts or IMs?
You had your chance. In fact, you’ve had way more chances than I’ve ever given anyone. I thought you were different, but boy was I wrong. If you wanted to be around me all the time, maybe you should have never broken up with me. (Did you seriously think I would jump at the chance, nay, the privilege of having you in my thesis group? Because really, I’m not remembering all of the times you fucked me over and saying, “Oh, yes, I need more of that to happen. I haven’t completely gouged my eyes out yet.”)
This may be bitterness, but don’t I have a right to be bitter? This never looks good on anyone, but honestly, I can only be in so much control of my feelings. Yes, it got easier with time, but I still feel, more than anything else, humiliated whenever I think of everything that’s happened. Trust me, I’m working on it, but I don’t think I can ever forgive you.aww, stupid is sad.
Would now be a bad time to point out how eye-gougingly awful the poetry is?
I have nothing to add but, my very first boyfriend awkwardly commenting on Tumblrd breakups is about the finest thing for the next five minutes.
Then it’ll just feel awkward.
PS: We broke up over the phone. In 1996.
