I don’t know what your agenda is and if there even is a fucking endgame to all this. But I know that I am starting to feel like I’m just here to be an emotional support animal. You aren’t the only thing in my life that is important. I don’t need the constant mindfuck. I’m happy and busy being alone. I truly am starting to not care and that brings its own sort of freedom.
I’m trying to play an old rusted out chess game with you, but the pawns are missing and we have established that you’re queen has emerged victorious now it’s just 32 moves to stalemate.
And that’s what you can’t stand. I stopped. I made the war end. I’m at peace. You are not. That’s my victory. And you hate that I have in some mall measure won.
That’s why the constant mindfuck. Yet lately all you trigger is apathy because all I have to give you is the fact that you are a very effective distraction but it’s getting easier and easier to separate the emotions I have for you and deal with this logically. It probably sounds cold, but a man can only be treated like he is Disposable and replaceable for so fucking long.
I fell out of love with you once, it can and will happen agian. ESP when at the end of the fucking day all you leave me is with questions and concerns.
This king is still standing. And I will never let the black queen achieve ultimate victory.
And that’s part of the mindfuck, neither won and neither of us lost. You can’t handle that you dealt me the dead man’s hand and I survived, more than that I thrived. Made something of myself agian while I danced in the fire.
That I’m not a broken man bugs you to no end. You couldn’t win. I wouldn’t let you. That’s all you want is to win on you’re terms. But I very much control the narrative now, and you know what the endgame and the prize on my end is…
But you haven’t earned it yet.
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