I stopped playing the game and moved on with my life, that’s what keeps you coming back. Yes there is a promise buried in a bedroom but the fact that you couldn’t give half a damn that I was lying in pain for days with chest issues, truly shows me this is just a a cry for attention and that in the overall scheme of you’re life I don’t fucking matter. One follow up phone call would have been all it took. But I wasn’t there for a minute because I was in pain and that was too much for you to handle so we are back to the fucking silence. That’s cool. I’m busy dying anyways. I’ll let you know if I feel better eventually.
I don’t have time for this shit, I have a life, I have moved on and I have epic adventures. I am reminded that my time on this earth could be short, the stomach pain I deal with and have always dealt with since I was a child because of all the damn pharmaceuticals was what killed Cobain at 27, I’m gonna be 46 this year and I’m still fighting those issues... because I’m not a coward....
I may have made you a promise but I’m not at you’re fucking beck and call when you deem my significant in you’re life, because clearly I am not. I’m completely convinced that you need to go first eventually, and I will continue to live and mourn even more pain than I can handle because you can’t handle me when I’m hurting, can’t even show a little compassion to this boy you once loved, this man who has always loved you...
Because I don’t fit into you’re perfect little life, and neither will He.
But I’m not the one with the fractured fairy tale of a life....
Mine’s ashes... and I am a phoenix, the pain and the anger only makes me stronger. It’s you’re life that is broken, like Courtney said, my life doesn’t reach to you.
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