“Tell Mom YOU Want Kool-Aid”

Just in case he thinks I had any choice in drinking the weight loss Kool-Aid at that point in my life?

He’s dead wrong.

I was only given the illusion of choice. Mom and Daddy gave me an Assignment that I could never complete to their satisfaction.

Hey. Kool-Aid.

fucking Kool it.

And as for Him:

It would be nice for you to treat me like an actual person, but you don’t have any plans to do that- you just want to read my stuff while you hold yourself out of my reach for as long as I’ll put up with it. Raw Deal for me. I don’t know why I’m bothering to say any of this shit at this point, throwing love down a rat hole.

All I get in return is the equivalent of parsing the distant clouds as they shapeshift in the remote upper reaches of the atmosphere, searching for traces of….very little. He has no intention of ever returning or apologizing or even speaking to me ever again. That particular lie of his is so egregious, so infuriating, that I wish I could cram that lie down his throat and ask him how he likes the sensation of getting face-fucked to the point of full body dry-heave gagging and salivating and gasping for breath. I didn’t like that. But you wouldn’t let it stop when I tried to stop.


I love you

you’ll never know how much, but God knows I tried to tell you- out here on the miserable Blasted Heath.

but if you’re never coming back,

I’m just letting you kill me remotely

over and over and over

from the cozy candlelit comfort of your snug and loving home

condescending pos

I’m not here for your fucking entertainment.



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