I feel sick to my stomach when I think about you. You come into my life and so easily leave; like I mean absolutely nothing. Am I fucking nothing anymore? Why do I have to be the one who harbors all the feelings? The one who has to have some self-control to not let you get to me, touch me, emotionally fuck me? Why is it ok for men to do whatever they want without feelings of attachment, emotion, or regret? How can you tell me you miss me, think about me, and then not show any effort? Is it me am I getting old and haggard, or is it this town and the people? How can there be such a concentration of douche-bags all in one small area? Why do I have to meet every single one of them? Why can’t I just block you out of my head, my heart? I don’t want to feel like this ever, ever again. It’s not fair. I am not a rag-doll for you to toss around and drag through the mud. I am human, a person, I have feelings, I have emotions, I have expectations. You, sadly, met none.

 I feel anymore that I have no standards; I have had to consistently lower them because of you men. What has happened to you, have you all regressed? What is wrong with society that has placed woman in such a low ranking order? Anymore we are becoming smarter and better than you. And all you seem to be doing is declining back on the evolutionary scale. I am hoping someday that maybe you will decline so far back that we can just lock you all up in a zoo, or a cave. I am sick and tired of being treated and seen as a piece of meat; yes, those are my boobs, yes, they are big, how utterly nice of you to notice. Here’s my face and my hand Fuck off! Oh, yeah by the way. I am sure that my endowments will always measure up to be bigger than yours. Let’s get real.

You don’t get to treat me like shit and have me chase after you, have me feel like I am inadequate, and second guess myself. Leave me waiting and wanting, I am not sad and pathetic. I am good, I am much more than my looks, I am smart, beautiful, funny, kind, considerate, and caring. I am no longer basing my existence on finding “The One”. I honestly am sick of basing my happiness and future on men. You all suck and aren’t worthy of fulfilling that huge of an order. Maybe I don’t need you after all, maybe none of us do. All you do is cause confusion, pain, and misery. And all we want is basic simple things like to be able to talk to you, get some understanding, some caring, some respect. Sometimes I think women are the higher species, we think and feel and care. And men are cavemen give them food, shelter, and sex and their basic needs are already met. Take some etiquette classes, grow some emotions, get some conscience, or just get a fucking life and leave mine alone. My life is not an ongoing beer commercial that you seem to see life as. And I won’t lower myself to feel that because I want more out of life than this that that makes me inadequate. That is a cop out and a manipulation to hold me down, you can’t hold me down anymore!

Is it worth it? Spending time frivolously; like pocket change. Or am I just an instant satisfaction type of person? Are good things worth waiting for and pining over? Well, I am sick of waiting; I want that future I dreamed of to manifest itself. I want my white picket fence and my knight in shining armor. I want you right now, no waiting. How can I go on just being your friend when you and I both know we want more? Are we selfish to want more? Is a promise that was broken give us the right to feel outside the box? Or am I being stupid and assuming you think about me like I am thinking about you? I want to know what you think, am I being desperate clinging on to nothingness. I don’t know.

Maybe I just need time also for myself to be alone for once and try to be happy being me alone. Sometimes I just don’t like being alone, is that ok? Not that I need much but I want more. I want to be in love again. A selfless, shameless, all consuming type of love. I miss me in love. All the other people who came and went never touched me, because I didn’t let them. None of them were worthy like you. I want to be touched, by you. I want to breathe you in, and taste your lips and skin. I want you to know me for the person I am, the person I can be and want to be for you.

I know you’re confused and hurt. I don’t want to add to your life anything bad, I don’t want to be your retribution or your rebound. I want to be there for you but waiting and wanting is something I am not good at. I wish it were more simple that you could come to me anytime, in the middle of the night and stay forever as long as you want. Is it ok to want that? To want more and to wish you less? You’re like a gem that I secretly uncovered and get to hold in my pocket, but never wear. It’s not good to be thinking like this, but I do. I don’t want too, but I can’t help it.

You’re white and pristine when I hold you up to the light. Transparent and clear I see you. I want to pull down your walls and crawl inside and find out your secrets. I want to hear your breathe on the back of my neck and feel your hands around my waist and over my breasts. I want you in your pain. I want to make you forget. I want to show you what life is. How you and I dreamed it should be when we were young and innocent. I want you to want that. And me, and all this.