Drama, drama, who wants some drama?

I got your drama right here, mofo.

So. Last night. I drank a glass of wine on an empty stomach, and then I drank another glass, then I emptied the bottle and had two ciders that were in my fridge. (That’s it. That’s all the drugs, alcohol and junk food left in my house – except some really good ice cream, but that’s another story for another day – so no more inebriation for a while.)

So. Of course Miul was texting. All he does these days is text I love you, you mean so much to me, have a good day honey, I am always here for you, baby, you mean the world to me darling, etc. On the nights he’s off and home alone it’s practically non-stop. More often than not I ignore him. The words, they are words. But last night I was in a mood.

So. He was talking about movies and other normal stuff so I was responding. He asked if I wanted to go watch my movie and I said yes. He sent a few I miss you type things and I slipped with snark, but then said I’m in a crappy mood so probably not best to stir the emotions right now. And he wouldn’t stop. The final straw was “Even when you are grumpy I adore you.” This is the conversation that followed:

Bullshit. You only like me because I’m not there. 

No not at all. I like you because of you. Bad days are temporary. You are always. I love you. 

You love who you think I am, you love who you want me to be. That’s okay. But the sooner you realize it, the happier you will be. 

No I know you. Better than anyone ever has. And I love you still. 

I don’t believe you. If you loved me you would have loved me when I was there. Now you love me because I’m not there. 

I am sorry you are having a bad day. I wish I could give you a massage and help you to relax*. I made mistakes. I am sorry. I would never ever make them again. You mean enough to me that I want to learn for you. (*Note: he has never given me a massage in my life, he rubbed my shoulders for the first time when I saw him last week.)

No you wouldn’t. You’d ignore me or tell me I was being stupid. I’m putting my phone away now. I don’t want to be mean but your empty promises aren’t helping. 

Not empty. Sincere. I pledged my heart to you. I just forgot to show you. You are my world. 

I know I’m worthless. I don’t need you or anyone else to remind me that anymore. Please just stop. 



Worthless? What the ever living fuck was that????

I turned off my phone and actually laid it on the floor in the hallway like it was on fire.

After I finished crying, I watched the rest of my movie and went to bed. I didn’t turn my phone back on. I was afraid of the sparks.

Worthless? Do I think I’m worthless? Is that my fucking why?? Christ.


So. I woke to at least two dozen texts from him. Are you okay? What happened? Why do you feel this way? Did someone hurt you? I’m calling the police. Etc. Etc. Etc. I replied that I’m fine, just turned off the phone. Later it started again. Are you okay? Did someone hurt you? Did something happen? Nothing happened, I said. This is life long crap that slipped out last night because I was frustrated, don’t worry about it.

I do worry though. I care about you and that won’t change. I want you to know you are not alone. 


I started another text that I won’t send but it is worth sharing here, for my future self to remember:

I am alone, Jeff. I’ve always been alone. I told you explicitly and several times from the moment we met to the moment we split that the worst thing you could possibly do is make me feel invisible and invaluable. But that’s what you did. And I know you say you didn’t mean to and I know you regret it but it’s done. I cannot trust that your words will be reflected in your behaviours. 

I have always had a low sense of self worth. It isn’t something that I let come to the surface if I can help it but there it is. You keep saying these loving things to me because you are trying to be kind but every single time it makes me feel worse. Every text, every comment is like a cut and I don’t want it. You’re trying to be nice but it feels like you are stabbing me or something. 

So. Now I’m back to the “what in the ever-loving fuck??” part. Do I really feel worthless?


What the hell am I supposed to do with that?

The answer is obvious.



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