I turn your photos to face the wall; I can’t bear to look at them any more. In them you are smiling, a picture of happiness.
A myriad of emotions run through me every day. Hate, despair, embarrassment, fear, sorrow, confusion, and anger; most definitely anger.
I’ve tried to contact you, stopping short at using your home number. Your mobile is never answered, messages and texts ignored, emails apparently unread.
I refuse to let the tears come. Bitter and stinging, they burn my eyes but I bite them back. I will not spill them over you.
Why do I feel this way? Why am I letting you affect me like this? Me? Pining over you? Hell no! I hadn’t even noticed you hadn’t been in contact.
Who am I tried to fool?
It was all lies, a pretty web of deceit. ‘O what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive’. Sir Walter says it far better than I!
I feel used. I want you to tell me that I am wrong; I want you to say that I am paranoid, crazy, anything except that I am right.
But you don’t say anything at all and that’s what hurts the most.
I Grieve... 