confession london

Story about hope.

I ran out of words, I ran out of things to say.
I ran out of thoughts, but never out of hope. Hope, that little voice inside of me that wants to believe in that image of a happy ending that one day will destroy me completely. I'm basically begging for it.
I basically asked you to destroy me.
I asked you to leave me crying on your bathroom floor.
I asked you to take my heart and throw it away.

I asked you to take me, to take everything and waste it. And when you came back, I gave you a second try. And a third. I basically asked for it. I asked for it, you might say.

This little voice of hope told me that you're a better person than you are. That little voice of hope wanted to believe every word you said. That little voice.

So when I told you to man up and stay true to your word, it was that little voice of hope speaking. It was crying out loud. It wanted to hope. It wanted you to be true.
But you are not.

I was walking fast beside you, trying to keep the speed. Grass almost knee high, the sun on my face. I wanted to talk when you stopped. Looked at me. Told me that it didn't mean anything. That I didn't mean anything. That you would never love me. That I didn't even want to be in your heart.
It was when it all broke down. When you ripped this little voice of hope out of me. You yelled it. Loud and clearly. The sun blinded my tears when you told me I should leave. The same day. I should leave right now.

It took me months to realize that I should have left.
That I basically asked you to destroy me. Again and again. With every chance I gave you, every time you came back. And you came back, talking sweet, smiling. Just to do it again.

I basically asked for it.
4.9.16 22:20

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