Fill “Her” Up

I got an email about an account I had forgotten about – the one where your cc had been tied in when you used it @ Exxon/Mobil. I had even forgotten about THAT part, until I looked at my account history – and even tho I didn’t go that far back, it hit me. Came rushing back like a freight train . . .

All those fill ups Β especially from after you left. The date, the time, the where . . .

God.

I know you don’t understand/feel heartbreak – or so you say – but let me just tell you, it’ll stop you in your tracks – make your head spin until you feel faint – makes your stomach seize up in agony and force your intestines to twist tortuously. It screws with every part of you until you don’t even know what to do next b/c you’re so racked with grief and pain.

You’re lucky that you’re immune.

I had been feeling pretty good – and good about myself, too, these past couple of days. Having SUCH good hair days πŸ™‚

I still continue (is that redundant?) to protect and defend you – and your work here – and for the life of me, I don’t know why. I still miss so much, but had been feeling more . . . Idk . . . OK with your betrayal, knowing that it was inevitable and for as much as I believed and trusted you, I couldn’t have said or done one thing to keep you true to me.

Destiny, fate, chance, kismet, the planets and the stars . . . just as much as I thought they finally brought me peace and happiness, they just as easily took it away.

You weren’t meant to be with me forever – and you knew it. I just didn’t get it.

So, for as much as I grab what would have been your pillow and tuck it close to me every nite, that will never really, truly, be your pillow ever again. That will never, ever, ever be YOU again. And sometimes I whisper “I miss you”, “I need you”, “I love you”, ” I want you”, but the pillow will never respond.

And neither will you.

And I have tried very hard to realize that that was your plan and your choice and your lies. It’s so ridiculously hard b/c, first of all, I loved you. And us. And I was binded by your words and never imagined that you would cheat and then leave. And I am a sentimental fool. And I am here, with the thousands of reminders of what we were. Or I thought we were, anyway.

And all I need to do is think back to discovering that record of your fill-ups from May 2013 on, and I have to make myself understand that I meant nothing to you. Off you went , time and time again, to fuck that slut Viktoria.

And there never was – nor never will be – one thing I can do to change that.

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