The Pain On The Inside.

Chapter 4

MY name is ( what )

My name is ( who )

My name is ( huh )

My name is, who cares what my name is.

I have never been important enough to be remembered. But i remember everyone else. I empathize for others where i receive none. and this cant be on okay way to live

I'm sorry for whoever reads these, but there's nothing more real than what im about to write down.

I am not okay.

I have lost numerous hours of sleep,earned no wage and yet i feel bad for myself. Pathetic. I Therese nothing to be sad about. As a man in 2024, you should be grateful you were given any chance to appreciate the ground she walked on. The air she breathed. The time she spent with your worthless ass.

And now that its over, you want to feel sorry for yourself? Your a joke, Your nobody to her. Never was, never will.

Stop hoping somebody will come around and adopt this sad puppy looking of a man and adopt yourself. Because there's no one that will come save you but you. Nobody will come heal you but you. Nobody will come nurture you, but you.

You must put that energy your using to  feel sad, depressed, lonely, into something tangible again.

How could anyone love somebody that behaves the way you do? You dont even love yourself.

If anything, you lifted a weight off of her shoulders.

Your dead weight to her.

You nothing but a memory now. You not even on her top 10 list of important people anymore. Hell, maybe not even top 50. You were a sideshow she stopped for, and now you ruined the show and shes leaving.

The act is over,take off the makeup and the costume, just pack it up bro.

Your time in her life has expired and the longer you would've stayed, she wouldve learned to hate you anyways.

Just like everyone else.

Your so disappointing.

Can't even do the few thing's a woman requires from their man and you hoped to be loved wholeheartedly.

HA! Your sick. Delusional. A charlatan. A dreamer. You could promise her the stars, and yet couldn't even give her dirt so she'd have a path to walk on.

You promised her the world, and couldn't even take her out of the state.

You promised her the moon, and yet she still can't see it clearly.

Your a hoax. You hope and dream, and scheme your words like an artisan to get what you want and yet can't even return the favor like a modest human being.

Despicable. Your a sinner. You deserve a sinners lifestyle. Edged from what you want, yet just always  a tad bit. Too. Short. To reach.

You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed. You've failed.

Your a failure.

And yet, you hold on to a sliver of hope, that one day a love so great will come by and sweep all the trauma away. Like it never happened. Like you never said those things.

Well i hope it happens for you. I really do. Because if sinner's can get their happy endings eventually, then the devil can chill in Heaven with a martini.

Sounds improbable, right?

Because it is you neanderthal.

Maybe someday you will be saved. Or dead. I'd love to know which would come first, but life doesn't give us any hints on either.

Guess we'll just have to keep on suffering, everyday, every month, every year.

Until we inevitably find out which has decided to show up into our lives first.

A loving embrace, or deaths cold grasp.