I missed the good part.
Back here I deleted the entire entry, when I should have just edited it. I deleted it because I was feeling rash when I wrote it, and I'm not thinking clearly today. Now, I'm leaving the parts that are still true.
You know what? I don't want this.
I did, until 5 minutes ago when I realized I'm still the bargain show. I've grown tired of being imaginary me, fun to chat to but never flesh and blood.
I don't want to be anyone's escape, or excuse, or time. I don't want you to try to piece together what I look like through thousands pixels. I don't want to make excuses for how we met, or how this happened. I don't want to think about it anymore, as fun as it was. I don't want to wait in wonder, as time passes and I get older and more bitter. I'm done with only wanting.
Exhausted with constraints, imposed rules and regulations. This fantasy land is for children, and I'm not naive enough to keep it up and not cruel enough to lie.
I feel like this has been dumbed down for me. The life has been sucked out of this, time and time again leaves me jaded.
Put yourself on the line, sweetheart. It'll only hurt for a second.
I don't think I'm able to see in black and white anymore. My vision has just blurred into a million different shades of gray.
The connection to the phone line tells me you're at your computer, and the words that stream through tell me what you want me to read because you've touched buttons that make letters, that form thoughts. Except that I've given you this window and the promise that I don't edit here, leaves me wide open to suggestions and consequences without the reward of looking through your window. I'm not getting the unedited version of you because I can't.
That price wasn't negotiable. We didn't trade secret for secret, lie for lie.
But I see where this is going.
I deserve more than this. We all do.
. . .
I would like to hear and see an "I'm sorry" that I can believe.