the lucky one
“Hoes don’t get cold,”
I insist, as I shiver and feel the anxiety bubbling up. I decline any offers and brace myself against the bitter chill, knowing this is my punishment. I guess his outfit does look better with it on. He was just wiser to dress for the cold.
—
“I don’t really expect anything from anyone,”
I divulge, thinking it’ll make anything he does a wonderful surprise to me. It doesn’t though - I’m only romanticizing the bare minimum.
—
“We’ve never argued once,”
I proclaim, proud of how easy everything has been. It’s purely because I allow him to get away with most things, standing my ground on the most outrageous of statements he spews. If he wasn’t who he was, I would’ve fought with him a long, long time ago.
—
“My style has changed so much,”
I gush, draped in a skimpy dress. I’m not leaving much to the imagination, but he likes it that way. I’m being objectified, but I’m allowing him to, so it should be fine. But I don’t feel very pretty, I just feel used.
—
“I know I deserve better,”
I confess, taking a sip of my red wine, knowing this intervention isn’t going to work. Limerence is a funny thing, and I fell into its trap yet again. Maybe one day I’ll find the power to leave, but it won’t be until I have no other choice. Maybe one day.
—
“It’s fine, I have a god complex too,”
I sigh, rolling my eyes at the inflated ego before me. While that may be true, I’m starting to realize that there’s a difference between confidence and narcissism. He only wants my validation - he only wants power.
—
“It’s just water under the bridge,”
I declare, knowing very well I won’t be able to let this one go. I’ll save it in my back pocket to use as ammunition in an inevitable argument. I feign defeat, but I know I’m not going to die on this hill. In the moment, I let him think that I do.
—
“I’m actually really lucky!”
I assert, hoping if I convince my friends who have remained doubtful, maybe one day I’ll believe it too.
—