Rest Assured

Honey, don't even.

So this is going to be a hard week.

It has been quite awhile since someone has directly told an adult on me. Even longer since I was lectured like a child. And even longer since I was so direct about my feelings for someone. Oddly enough, I feel an overwhelming amount of resentment. Towards who or what, I'm not sure. A lot of things. The way this is falling into place gives me a sick feeling in my stomach. My choices were these:

A. Be moody.

B. Be a whiney tell-tale.

C. Explode.

The choice seems obvious to me.Once again, I made the wrong decision.

It seems so childish to say, but the words rang true in the hearts of all the great revolutionaries.

That's not fair.
But when I say it, it's wrong.

I really like direct address.

You,

When is it okay to do that? I gave you a good 30 minutes to come up with a convincing lie and I still don't believe a word you said. Stay the fuck away from me. There is a reason I hadn't told you.

You,

Dumbass. I can't even say anything else. I know the compunction is killing you. I'm doing it on purpose.

You,

Funny how you're always involved. (Hey, let's be lesbians!) I have ears. Goddamn. It's a fucking library, I CAN HEAR YOU.

And you.

Honey. I am so angry with you. THIS HURTS. In case you couldn't tell. I know I'm wearing my 'fuck-off' face a lot these days, but really. I want you to understand what it feels like to be on this end. I can't tell if you're creating distance because I was being melodramatic on Saturday or because I (am) being melodramatic about you. Both of which are true.. It's just stereotypical for the kid being told on to be ignored and not asked for her side. And I should have already learned that.

P.S. I'm doing fantastically well in the world of academics. And I really like holding hands.

(There's that silver lining, sweety.)