I try to encourage the use process therapy on myself. Not that I've learned anything in particular with it, but i have been able to forgive the heart breakers faster than I would normally::::
Standing in the bathroom with you, I almost expected an intimate moment between the two of us. I should have known better. I should have anticipated the opiates on my brain. The incoherence in your voice and in my brain. I should have expected the cruel and unusual judgment you hold over me. OH! and your ability to see straight through my freekin soul!!
I was irritated by the abrupt clicking the broken toilet paper holder made each time i shifted my weight against it. I struggled to vocalize. Once or twice I had to reword my thoughts in my head. And even then what I wanted you to feel couldn't come out from my mouth. Or maybe subconsciously I really didn't want you to feel what I hoped you could feel. So I lied. I made it seem easier to accept. I have already accepted your inability to understand the kind of person I am. You see my depth but you read me so flat. Flat as the deepest part of me. You don't see the heights I've seen.
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