He called me “hon”.
He is not prone to terms of endearment. This isn’t a man who slips into language like a diner’s waitress.
After no communication for days. Maybe a week.
I’ve lost track of time.
These days time is like taffy. Stretching, clinging, sticking.
The point is it just slipped out so casually.
And I want to bash my head into a wall repeatedly.
There’s a reason I grew up loving paperback mysteries, Stephen King, and Wes Craven movies. This isn’t a girl who believes in fairy-tale-happy-ending bullshit.
I am my father’s daughter.
And I know better.
I know that there isn’t some white knight who is gonna swoop in at the last minute and make all the hurt disappear. There isn’t even a constant weight on the other side of my bed, much less in less explicit facets of my life.
I am on my own. Always. Regardless of where I’m stuck in time.
Only a single friend has told me “You deserve to have him stay. You give so much.”
All others are silent. And it shows me what I already know, in that deepest heart of mine. That truest heart. That constant companion that’s been there since when I was little.
There’s no point in giving. There is no deserving.
There is only the taffy stretch of time and the constant stickiness of pain.
We all deserve love and to be actively loved, including you. ❤
You deserve to be happy. It is your right. XX