Also, the Alcoholic texted last night to ask if I'm doing okay. I replied with just one word: "no."
I received no other texts or calls from him since then. LOL. Zero.
Such a caring man.... Such strength. Such compassion! Lololol.
I'd cry, but his idea of emotional support genuinely makes me laugh now. I definitely get more out of my unrequited imaginary celebrity crush, more out of diaryland notes, more out of instagram likes, more even from desperate fuckboys. I get more love from my pets, more understanding from the books I read, more from friends, more from strangers, than I do from him.
He said he didn't have enough money to take a bus to my house to get his things, so I'm stuck with it, and still stuck feeling like I can't block his totally meaningless periodic "i love you" texts until he's reunited with his belongings.
Love is -- at the very least -- following up with a text like "why" or "sorry to hear that." Love is not MANIACAL SILENCE in response to any form of expressed emotion, especially one so small as a two letter word in lowercase. I can't shrink myself down much more than that to make myself more palatable for a weak ass man who doesn't know a thing about love.
I hate it but I'm trying to be at least understanding enough of his financial situation to wait it out awhile longer. I cannot wait until he gets his shit out of here so I can put all this behind me and block his ass. And the 12 new phone numbers he'll text me from in 2021.
11:28 a.m. - 2020-11-06