it would never work between you and me.
your better off with him.
i wasn't very much fun to be with anyway.
i can tell myself these things and almost believe them now. i'm getting much better about it. convincing myself of it, i mean. you'd be proud of me for it. i've gotten to the point where i can see myself without you. i can imagine being alone.
..and i guess i am.
since school's ended, i haven't really been doing much of anything. i sleep and get drunk, mostly. mum tries to help me, in between recieving her many callers and hosting her charming little parties, of course.
on afternoons when she has other ladies of society over, i sit with them beneath the shade and canopied comfort of the trees and pick at the lace on my sleeve cuffs. they drink tea with their pinkies up and talk vindictively about who ever isn't present at the time while i slouch in my chair with my legs spread and roll my eyes, thinking about places i'd rather be or people i'd rather be fucking.
my courtship with pansy is dull. i feel nothing for her except a mildly irritating mixture of pity and disgust.
the wedding is set for next autumn.
she wears her ring as though it were attatched to a leash around my neck; fawning over me, touching me, petting my hair. she seems so pleased with herself, that she finally has some sort of legitimate claim to me now.
funny how none of this seems real.
atleast, not as real as my thoughts of you.
..mum thinks i'm ill with something. she's had all the best doctors up to see me. i sort of like the attention. one doctor decided it was some kind of fever and prescribed me a jar of sedative tablets. i've been taking lots of those..... they might not've done anything for my 'fever', but they did a damn good job of curing my lovesickness. i don't care about anything after i've taken a few of them. i don't care that it's him your with and not me, don't care that his fingers and tongue are going places that only i should be allowed to venture. they're almost strong enough to keep me from caring about you, too.
almost, anyway.
your better off with him.
i wasn't very much fun to be with anyway.
i can tell myself these things and almost believe them now. i'm getting much better about it. convincing myself of it, i mean. you'd be proud of me for it. i've gotten to the point where i can see myself without you. i can imagine being alone.
..and i guess i am.
since school's ended, i haven't really been doing much of anything. i sleep and get drunk, mostly. mum tries to help me, in between recieving her many callers and hosting her charming little parties, of course.
on afternoons when she has other ladies of society over, i sit with them beneath the shade and canopied comfort of the trees and pick at the lace on my sleeve cuffs. they drink tea with their pinkies up and talk vindictively about who ever isn't present at the time while i slouch in my chair with my legs spread and roll my eyes, thinking about places i'd rather be or people i'd rather be fucking.
my courtship with pansy is dull. i feel nothing for her except a mildly irritating mixture of pity and disgust.
the wedding is set for next autumn.
she wears her ring as though it were attatched to a leash around my neck; fawning over me, touching me, petting my hair. she seems so pleased with herself, that she finally has some sort of legitimate claim to me now.
funny how none of this seems real.
atleast, not as real as my thoughts of you.
..mum thinks i'm ill with something. she's had all the best doctors up to see me. i sort of like the attention. one doctor decided it was some kind of fever and prescribed me a jar of sedative tablets. i've been taking lots of those..... they might not've done anything for my 'fever', but they did a damn good job of curing my lovesickness. i don't care about anything after i've taken a few of them. i don't care that it's him your with and not me, don't care that his fingers and tongue are going places that only i should be allowed to venture. they're almost strong enough to keep me from caring about you, too.
almost, anyway.