I love you. I don’t think I can ever stop loving you. But the truth is you’re not good for me, not good for my heart, my health, my bank account. I can’t keep sneaking you in back into my life, and under my bed and waiting for the others to go to sleep to start my night.
I can’t do this.
I’m a fair woman, I’ll admit you give me joy as much. But you also take it away from me. I’ve been crying, not being able to fit in my clothes, and when I turned to you, you just made it worse. Made me feel worse after. Made me feel like I had nothing going for myself and that the only thing that I was defined by was my dwindling bank balance and clothes supply.
I don’t know who gave you the right. If it was me, I’m taking it back now.
I was there that day. The others didn’t want to see you around. There are better things in life. My friends think I’m crazy; they keep reminding me that you’re not all I have. I have the sun and the sky and them. I have water and tea to drink, food to eat, I have someone who loves me. Who are you to try to take from me all the time?
Do you think I can’t make better for myself? I’m a grown woman, not a man child who needs to order out all the time. I take care of myself. I take out the trash. And this time, it’s you. I’m taking you out.
I will never call again. I will never come here again. I don’t care how much you want me back. This is done.
“Ma’am, you placed this order…”
“Mark my words; this is the last time I get cookies.”
I’ve been experimenting with some writing recently, and one of my friends really loves this piece, mostly because he has to talk me out of getting cookies. Posting this because he really loves it! Also, this is low-key how I feel about Chunk Yard Cookies and brownies from O’Brownie, which are responsible for the 9 kg I’ve gained this last year. They’re both here in Islamabad, and I’ll add the links below in case you’re curious. Of course, this piece is incredibly immature, but I like it and its part of my aim to spend my time meaningfully if not productively.
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