yesterday, i did some very helpful packing; i collected things and wrapped them into boxes so that they can stop taking up my breathing room. and i'd like to tell you that i did it with a heart of kindness and generosity, but that, my friends, would be simply untrue. the truth--however unpleasant it is--is that i did this because i was the only one who would in this scenario. and, i admit, that is how it all too often goes in my life: i am left behind to pick up the pieces from someone else's bad decisions, cowardice, or general ennui--whether my heart is broken or not (and, who are we kidding, it always is)--and i've gotten frighteningly good at it.
oh, it's true....i could tell my sad, sad tales and someone out there might even bend his or her heart in some type of sympathetic gesture, but it wouldn't really change anything. it surely wouldn't change me, or my mind, or my heart, or the fact that there are boxes of someone else's things in my spare bedroom that--in all honesty--i never expected to have to pack up alone.
i may not know much from my 30+ years of existence, but i do know one thing: i am not interested in one more person walking out my door and telling me that whatever we had just wasn't 'enough,' or that things weren't 'right' or 'ready' or whatever the new lingo is on that particular day. please, men of the world, DO NOT tell me what you want from a future with me if you aren't willing to make good on it. and if i look you in the eye and say that i don't want to hear i love you from another man who cannot or will not hold up his end of the bargain, DO NOT SPEAK THOSE WORDS unless you intend to be the man who won't leave me with his stuff to pack into boxes.
God, there are so many reasons why i ask that you not bring me back to this place again. you know them all, but the only one i can think of is please, just don't.