4. The Excess memo
natty
Female is not a girl, but an idea. Man is an idea, lost in a girl.
It’s not like I don’t see it coming.
Sometimes I let you through to really see if you can…or should I say would? Yes. “Would” would be suitable. Because I know you can. It was quite a surprise at first. Then I started observing. Yes. Observing. Quietly. Watching you push the buttons I showed you while our clothes were off.
Hate wouldn’t be a word I would use. Because after I rip it out in tears from my chest, everything becomes forgotten, till next time. It never reaches to my eyes. I feel as if there were wet cotton rolls clogged in my throat, they bounce back and the pressure makes me want to bleed from my nose.
Sometimes I’m unable to speak so I explain it through physical pain.
Tove.
No. I don’t want to. What I want is to run as far away as I can from you.
Some are convinced it’s love deluded by their foolish minds and movies, but I don’t hate you. I did though. Now I just want the pain to stop. The worst part is I don’t really know to whom I’m writing this.