And smell the reality.
I guess.
The reality that I was never and will never be anything to you.
I should read that poem I wrote over and over and over until it burns my brain.
I am trying every which way to keep you in my life in one way or another because I can feel you slipping away.
You already have.
Every time I think I have a grip I lose it.
And you're gone.
And I have to wait in agony until you come back for me again, only to stay a little while, and do it again and again and again.
This has always been our relationship.
One giant circle.
Yes we stray, but we've alway come back.
August of this year will make us 9.
Almost a decade of demented history.
History that doesn't exist in the world but only between you and me.
A history that I feel with every fiber of my being.
And when it pulls away, it's a string coming from my core.
And I always get dragged along with it.
I'm never free of you.
My thoughts, my life, I can't free myself of you.
I try.
I really really try.
Because I hate you.
I hate that I cannot love you and you cannot love me back.
I hate that I have to hold back everything I've ever wanted to give you.
And I hate that when you leave I'm here writing about you with tears dripping down my face because you've always been the only person I've ever wanted.
But you've never really wanted me.
I wish I could know what I've meant to you all of these years.
Or if I've meant anything to you at all.
I know you don't love me, and it's merely something you say to get a rise out of me.
To rev up the engine, you want to take for a ride.
Only to drive it into a ditch, and leave the scene.
I am the abandoned car.
You are miles away from me.
Two hours away to be precise.
And with you not living here anymore, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't search the streets for your car.
Or look down the street your family lives hoping to see that you're in town.
I want you to see me pass you by, and vice versa.
But I never do.
Because you aren't here.
But I wish you were.
I can not find anyone close to who you are to me.
Sexually.
Your touch alone can set me on fire.
I melt.
I am putty in your hands as soon as my clothes come off.
You make me feel magic.
I feel things I've never felt in my life with you.
Things my husband is scared to do to me, are all things you taught me.
Everything I like sexually are all things you've brought to my body.
The feeling your presence gives my body is one I cannot duplicate.
I have tried to have that with others and there is no such thing.
So such person with the capabilities that you have.
The power that you have over me is one I do not understand.
Almost a decade.
I've had you for a decade.
Or you have had me I should say.
Because I can never have you.
You will never be mine.
There will be the times that I am strong.
I am so strong and able to deny you access to me.
And stay faithful and committed to my husband.
And I am good and I am strong and I am capable of telling you no.
I feel as if my life is blessed.
Things are going good.
I can do it.
Then one way or another you pop up into my life.
And I am curious to see if you have missed me or not.
So I let you in.
And you come in and ruin everything I have built while you were away.
Then I am left alone to pick up the mess you made, and the pieces you refuse to acknowledge are there.
And you are a cycle in my life.
The cycle of Rudy.
The bad habit I cannot break.
You are not a drug, or a drink.
I cannot go to rehab to cure myself of this disease.
This disease of a human that has burrowed himself inside my veins.
You came to me this weekend.
And we made love.
And you took your time.
And you kissed me the whole way through.
And you made sure you pleasured me because that was all that mattered.
I finally got to feel all of you again.
The sensations I have been dying for.
Your company.
Just talking with you, and joking its as if it's never enough time.
We never have enough time together.
You have to go.
Due to my circumstances or yours.
But at least I had you for that brief moment.
And now that is all being compromised because you've been caught.
And I can't tell if it was deliberate or not.
All I know is you having to keep your distance for a little while is going to kill me.
And only make me want you more.
I guess because I can't control it, makes me want to find a way to control it.
If that makes sense.
They say you become what you hate.
Not only am I a mistress, but I am also the one committing the act of infidelity.
I have become both of what has killed me.
The abuse, abuse.
His fiancé contacted me to get answers.
Threatening to come to my home, and tell my husband.
But she didn't even know my name.
So I gave her fake details with no name.
Just to quiet her mind.
But first I tried to contact him, to help us.
To see what he told her, or what I should say.
And he blocked my number.
And won't answer my restricted numbers I called from.
It hurts.
Because this all feels so real.
Him being gone.
Me not having access to him seems so surreal.
That it has made me physically sick.
I am so attached to having him there.
That when I do not my body reacts.
And I start to panic.
And I start to lash out on my husband.
The night she called my phone and called me a whore, threatening to tell my husband.
I lashed out on my husband.
Starting a fight with him about how he isn't showing me enough love.
This man sobbed.
He was sobbing in front of me, professing his love and everything he does.
And I was there with no emotion.
I couldn't feel remorse for him.
I couldn't feel for him because I was feeling for someone else.
But I was projecting what I felt onto him.
So he could feel it too.
Which I know is wrong.
I wish I knew how to get over someone.
I try and I try but I can't.
I need help.
