I'm pretty sure Ben's embarking on some noble attempt to set me free and not tie me to him if he's going to be away forever and if it's 'meant to be' then I will want to be with him when he comes back but in the meantime he won't add guilt, regret or sadness to my life by contacting me.
Yeah, right. Fucking GAG me.
(No, don't, actually, this is neither the time nor is it the place.)
I'm so dizzy from rolling my eyes I can barely walk a straight line at this point. I'm prone to cynical laughter and bursting out with my Princess-Tourette's:
Bullshit!
Fucking whatever!
and my all-time favorite explicative, MotherFUCKER.
Look, I'm glad he's straight and narrow and working hard and getting healthy and learning some coping mechanisms FOR ONCE. I'm glad he's contemplating his future, not being selfish but being pragmatic about life, serious in his thoughts, for once.
But I'm no one's fucking experiment.
Besides, at this point I have spent weeks getting my information second-hand, because apparently the six-foot-four monster metal god is frightened of the little five-foot-nothing blonde sometime-sideshow freak and has to relay all of his messages through people who probably don't have his best interests at heart when it comes to said freak and might spin information to suit themselves, and so with that said, from here on out I will continue to live, continue to love and wait for him and when he comes back, I wish unleash the holy hell of myself on him because this lack of contact is DRIVING ME FUCKING CRAZY.
Am I composed? Acting like a lady through this?
Nope. Sorry.
