It's a melancholy bargain. One that I can't hold my loyalty to. I've waited this long, and for what? Exactly what I've awaited? It's nothing but a surplus of self-regard and a lack of keeping your mutuality.
I can't carry it anymore. It's not fair.
It's all on me. Everything is happening because I arranged it to happen. How can I go back? I wanted to go back and you wouldn't have it. The accountability isn't yours. But you lured me in as if nothing was ever depraved. Confusion, fabrication, assurance... none of that matters.
If I've ever been at a loss for words even in composing these words in this silly little blog, it'd be now.
What am I feeling? Will you tell me. Please.
I'm not who you think I am but it's too late now. You're in. You promised. And I'll watch you run away only to beat yourself up over my "I told you so's" you denied before. Go on and pretend this is nothing