Short Stories & the Like

Hurt

When I’m hurt heartbroken, hell really hath no fury like a woman scorned.

I’m passive aggressive like it’s an Olympic sport.

I have so many saved heartbreak quotes that I can toss one out at a moment’s notice.

I will share every single sad song lyric like a DJ spinning tracks at a club.

I plot revenge like an author plots their story.

I lash out.

I argue.

I’m petty to Nth degree.

I talk a lot of smack for someone who is crying behind every post.

I give an illusion of no fucks given as I wipe tears away from my eyes, and wondering what I did wrong.

I silently pine for you to apologize and ask to make up while I’m silently cussing you out as I scroll through your page.

I hope you wonder who I’m going out with, when I share a snap of me “getting ready for tonight 💋✌” when it’s just for show and I’m actually curling up with takeout and a sad romantic movie.

And then I apologize, whether it’s my fault or not.

I all but beg you to talk to me.

I try to tell you that we can make this work, just believe me.

Just take the risk again.

I show the tears I’ve been hiding.

I replace the heartbreak posts with inspirational ones.

This could be us again.

Happy. Together.

But the damage is done now.

You hate yourself for hurting me like this.

You tell me I deserve better.

You tell me goodbye before I’m ready.

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7 thoughts on “Hurt”

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