I told you not to do it. When I was still a voice in your head I told you not to do it. When I was still a figment of your imagination hiding in the damp and dark corners of your dull mind, before you woke me up, before you gave me the black leather jacket to wear, and the shoulder length wavy hair. Before you made me sound like Tim Roth with laryngitis trying to speak through a mouth full of skittles, I told you ... Not...To... do it.
For a year and a half you toyed with the idea. For a year and a half we fought. I'd keep you up at night whispering in your ears. I'd yell at you and squeeze your heart with my fingers. I'd pound the chair (that stupid wooden chair) the single piece of furniture you'd allow me in my concrete cell. That incubus you had built to keep me bottled up inside your head. I'd scrape my fingernails across the walls knowing that you can't shut your ears to my bleeding raw fingernails. That you can't just turn off your imagination, or the sounds. I'd watch you flinch and I'd sing it , over, and over,
....... dontdoit-dontdoit-dontdoit .....dontdoit-dontdoit-dontdoit .....
....... dontdoit-dontdoit-dontdoit .....
Do Not Do It!
I had hoped, your ears would bleed if I kept it up. (Which they didn't.) I hoped your mind would snap and we'd both go tumbling out of a window somewhere. I knew that after the last time I stopped you, you would never go back to another one. I was hoping this time you'd come up with something more final. But you're still here.
It wasn't always like that. Sometimes I'd ease back a little and resign to watching you for a while. And for a while you'd be smart. You'd go about your daily work, pushing your past out of your head, burying yourself in books and numbers, in accounts, in clients, in hobbies, and I'd breath easy -- but only for a while. Then it would be back to that same old habit. Back to the sleepless nights, to the stupid smiles, to the tossing and turning and checking your email, or your phone fora message, every ten minutes. You're thoughts would wake me up like a siren going off in my little cell. Your thoughts would be back to their nasty business, turning you against me, turning you against yourself and pushing you towards what you want to do instead of what you ought not to.
But you're an idiot. And what else can I expect from an idiot.
Tell me, does it live up to your expectations? Was it everything you imagined it to be? Was all this worth those three little words?
You just HAD to tell her that you love her. That was a mistake you have lived to regret. Do you even learn from your history?
"I love my mistakes. They're probably the best things I've done in my life."
That's bullshit speaking right there. That is the typical you I have to live with -- saying contradicting terms and pretending that you said something profound.
So mistakes were the best thing you've done your whole life? Well La-Dee-Da princess because mistakes are all you have to show for your miserable excuse for a life, and thinking that if you keep making mistakes then you will be adding meaning to your existence is a sure way to make me suffocate on my own vomit.
And if I die, you are coming with me.
Mistakes are mistakes. They are to be avoided in life. They cause misery. They waste your time and effort. Stop glorifying every "mistake" you ever made in an attempt to vindicate your sorry ass, because, like it or not, we're stuck with one another and I for one am sick and tired of tagging along inside your brain while you waste the few precious days we have left in this world by persuing MORE "mistakes".
Do something right or once. Fuck Love. Turn around and say no. Lets just walk away from this while we still have our sanity and do the right thing, the rational thing, the healthy thing, for once.
What do you say?
For a year and a half you toyed with the idea. For a year and a half we fought. I'd keep you up at night whispering in your ears. I'd yell at you and squeeze your heart with my fingers. I'd pound the chair (that stupid wooden chair) the single piece of furniture you'd allow me in my concrete cell. That incubus you had built to keep me bottled up inside your head. I'd scrape my fingernails across the walls knowing that you can't shut your ears to my bleeding raw fingernails. That you can't just turn off your imagination, or the sounds. I'd watch you flinch and I'd sing it , over, and over,
....... dontdoit-dontdoit-dontdoit .....dontdoit-dontdoit-dontdoit .....
....... dontdoit-dontdoit-dontdoit .....
Do Not Do It!
I had hoped, your ears would bleed if I kept it up. (Which they didn't.) I hoped your mind would snap and we'd both go tumbling out of a window somewhere. I knew that after the last time I stopped you, you would never go back to another one. I was hoping this time you'd come up with something more final. But you're still here.
It wasn't always like that. Sometimes I'd ease back a little and resign to watching you for a while. And for a while you'd be smart. You'd go about your daily work, pushing your past out of your head, burying yourself in books and numbers, in accounts, in clients, in hobbies, and I'd breath easy -- but only for a while. Then it would be back to that same old habit. Back to the sleepless nights, to the stupid smiles, to the tossing and turning and checking your email, or your phone fora message, every ten minutes. You're thoughts would wake me up like a siren going off in my little cell. Your thoughts would be back to their nasty business, turning you against me, turning you against yourself and pushing you towards what you want to do instead of what you ought not to.
But you're an idiot. And what else can I expect from an idiot.
Tell me, does it live up to your expectations? Was it everything you imagined it to be? Was all this worth those three little words?
You just HAD to tell her that you love her. That was a mistake you have lived to regret. Do you even learn from your history?
"I love my mistakes. They're probably the best things I've done in my life."
That's bullshit speaking right there. That is the typical you I have to live with -- saying contradicting terms and pretending that you said something profound.
So mistakes were the best thing you've done your whole life? Well La-Dee-Da princess because mistakes are all you have to show for your miserable excuse for a life, and thinking that if you keep making mistakes then you will be adding meaning to your existence is a sure way to make me suffocate on my own vomit.
And if I die, you are coming with me.
Mistakes are mistakes. They are to be avoided in life. They cause misery. They waste your time and effort. Stop glorifying every "mistake" you ever made in an attempt to vindicate your sorry ass, because, like it or not, we're stuck with one another and I for one am sick and tired of tagging along inside your brain while you waste the few precious days we have left in this world by persuing MORE "mistakes".
Do something right or once. Fuck Love. Turn around and say no. Lets just walk away from this while we still have our sanity and do the right thing, the rational thing, the healthy thing, for once.
What do you say?
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