I hate you. I know you know this, but the thing that I hate you for this week? Infidelity. You taught me that lovers apart could not be trusted. I know down deep that this is not true. But a part of me cringes when I start to wonder what my boy is doing out on the road when I don’t hear from him.
I’m blaming you.
While I was on the road you screwed everything you could get your hands on. When I left the country you couldn’t even wait 24 hours before fucking the first whore to come along. At least that one you didn’t lie to me about.
You taught me to play and be silly. To relax and enjoy life. But you also taught me (or convinced me, I should say) that men can’t/won’t be faithful – that this was part of “enjoying life”.
Thanks to you, I find myself challenged this week. Debating what my intuition tells me is true and what my head has learned from you. Fortunately, my intuition has always been right. It certainly was right about you. Every single time. So thank you for giving me the opportunity to read myself and my gut.
I know that things are fine. But I hate you for convincing me to doubt. The fact that I even have these thoughts is your fault.
So, fuck you, Aaron. I hope you never find peace of mind.