Train of thought inspired by the Three of Swords...

Today I had a panic attack because I knew that I was never going to talk with you ever again.
And then I had another panic attack because I had to pretend to be okay.

I knew that everything I wanted and everything I ever hoped for
Was as futile and foolish as the curls I attempted to put in my hair
And knowing this made me want to die but instead of dying I cried
Just as I cried when you left me.
And its not your fault but it is my own
Because I should have known better than to put my hopes and dreams into someone so mediocre...

And yet... I'm not sure what hurts more:
Knowing that I was better than you and you didn't want me
Or knowing that I was better than you and I let you break my heart.
I know every inch of you
I know when you're lying, when you're lost, and when you just don't care.
I know you well enough to know that there's nothing in you left for me,
And that you've given whatever it was that used to belong to me to someone else.
I looked into your soul and saw the man I wanted to live forever with
And you looked into mine and saw someone you couldn't wait to leave.
You saw someone who could not and would never be that cliched all consuming One.

I want you to know that I'd turn her to ash and stone if I could;
...That girl you left me for...
You don't really think I didn't know about your blue-clad indiscretion?
I hate that you left me for some pig-faced idiota who has no idea who you are or what you want.
Even when we didn't want the same thing, I still understood you without you needing to say so.

But that matters less than the freckles on your nose,
Than every shade of blue in your eyes,
And every tear I've ever cried over you
Because the Three of Swords said so
And I'm tired of fighting it.

I've waited way too long to grieve, too busy hiding behind false pretenses and the illusion of being okay...
And now that I am grieving I've come to the conclusion that there's something fundamentally broken inside me
And neither you or He can fix it, despite both of your best intentions.
And while you get to live the rest of your life across the Atlantic, happily ignoring the impact you've made on me
And He gets to try to remind me that I'm a woman and that I deserve to be loved
Neither of you have the capacity to understand that I'm broken inside,
And I'd rather hollow myself out and turn myself to stone than think of either of you with tenderness.
Because He hurt me first,
And you hurt me last,
And neither of you have the right to look me in the eye.

I am better than you, if you want to know.
I am better than some fool who only ever pretends to know what he wants
And would rather throw away his life on a Rock and an idea and a memory
Than write and think about anything worth having.
You'll never write the way you want to
You'll never live beyond gambling, cigarettes and beer,
And you'll die fat and balding and useless, just like a million other Englishmen who all had the same delusions you have.
You'll marry someone like that blue-clad pig-faced Eurotrash who will tell you everything you want to hear and who will spit out 2.5 pig-faced Eurotrash uberliberal children, just like you.

Personally, I'd rather be sterile.

I never told you that....

It seems really fucking irrelevant now. I'm kind of glad I never told you.
I'm especially glad that you don't care enough about me to read this.