Disgust

The feeling is nauseating. The utter disgust of someone driving you catastrophically insane. The reality of human cruelty permeating in my psyche.

I see your picture every now and then and it makes me cry. I hear your voice and my heart shrinks, pulled inward by all the possibilities of a story that never ended. I want to believe it’s going to stop, that one day I will look at you and remain emotionless, that I could offer you an honest smile without a knot forming in my throat, because I know one day it will be like this, I barely even think about you now and time does wash away memories until they are so blank you can see through them, ignore them completely.

I see you now and I feel empty. You are a rotting piece of my heart that refuses to fall off and die. You decay, your memory keeps losing colors and turning into a mucky, stained sepia; and I still can’t stop feeling the remainders of wet damage struggling to spill from my eyes. I think of you and the limits to my imagination are shattered, as I never could have imagined someone could so easily leave, so resolute and cruel, with such disregard and in such a cowardly, emotionless way.

Over the surface I feel depleted of sympathy, I can hardly contain the urge to snap you out of whatever it is you think makes you larger than whoever you look down on. I see the people with whom you choose to share your time and it sickens me, I see how you interact, how you speak, and it annoys me. It was always this way. I you spending time with people so simpleminded, unattractive and bland, I often wonder if I was an exercise in tolerance on your part. 

This drives me insane. I am losing my mind, thinking that I could never be happy unless I cause you an amount of pain that could match the one I still feel when I think of you; and yet I know that this could never materialize. I care about you enough to never intend to hurt you, but I am still angry, still trying to come to terms with these overwhelming emotions and questions that plague me. I can barely put it into words, I cannot attempt to hold it. 

I can only rationalize it as annoyance. So annoyance I will feel. 

I am sick of you. 

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