prefrontal cortex says no *cough*

wipe away this dry
erase board of memories, so
you can press
reset on nyc... reset.
there, i did it for you
and your new life
filled with everything
besides me.
defriend me,
slander my position and
my character, let me be
a platform
for your pity, party
of one...
let the dust develop
and the photos fade
and walk away
like nothing
ever
happened.
point your fingers,
but don't forget
to do it in the mirror
as well.

isn't it odd how we can just will ourselves to forget people, erase them from our minds like the delete button on the computer so gracefully erases them from our frontal lobes. i make bad decisions. i do, it's not necessarily a good thing but at least i know what i am. and right now, i am someone who has been lost in the wake of one of them.

i knew at the very beginning of this what it was that i was about to sacrifice. five years of fun times, great rapport, and laughter. five whole years, down the fucking drain. and now, because it was by my hand, i'm the one who barely has a house, albeit a clean one at that, and i'm the one that everyone looks at and shakes their heads.

"what was she thinking? how could she do that to him? is she an idiot?"

well. i may be an idiot, but at least i was the one who was honest. and that doesn't come out in any of this. i'm the one with the staff and horns. i'm the one who wears the dunce cap for what people think are "selfish intentions." i'm the one who got fucked on social networking quotations. because i was honest. because i had respect for someone who has not shown so much for me in the afterbirth.

maybe i'm being bitter. but i'm also fucking couch surfing and giving all of my money away and cleaning and doing laundry and making sure that he realizes there was a friendship that i respected enough to try and make lives better. in twenty years if i had continued down this same road would it have been so kind?

i think not. i think the one-sidedness of the situation would be roman candles exploding like spiders across the night sky. and not in the good way, kerouac. i'm not angry you don't want to be my friend anymore. i'm angry you have managed to cheapen everything i have tried to save, however miniscule i can show it. i may have been the hand that held the axe. unfortunately, my head is the one rolling on the ground right now.

boo hoo, me. at least i was never a victim. life was before this, and life will continue after. and if i died tomorrow, it would be a shame that all my pictures have been deleted from any point of return. chew on that. you can keep the pity.

k.