The Killing of the King of Pain
Listen well my friend…
…Or at least I think you are….
I don’t know why I called him. No I know why. Fuck that, I’m lying. I know exactly why I called him. Because I’m forgetting the sound of his voice. Because I’m forgetting the minute details of his face. Because I’m forgetting the feeling of his skin, because I miss him.
I’m a bloody idiot. I miss him. I’m a fool.
Because the first time, the very first time, he kissed me and said it was okay. Because he didn’t laugh because I was afraid. Because he made it okay.
And I like the fucked up fool I am, I called him. What the fuck was I going to say?
I’ll tell you what I said, I said congratulations. I said con-fucking-gratulations, I did. I fucking said it.
And he laughed in my ear, and my knees went weak because I miss his laughter so. I miss every single bit of him not just his huge penis. Because that’s what he thinks. Or maybe that’s what he hears. Maybe every time I say to him ‘I love you’, he hears ‘I love your penis’. Because that’s what he thinks.
He thinks I’m a whore.
He thinks that I’m fucking everyone.
I told him a thousand times that I was waiting for him, but he laughs and doesn’t believe me.
Just because I’m a certain way with you doesn’t mean I’m that way with other people. Just because I like to fuck you wherever. Just because I ask you to bite me and spank me, just because …. it doesn’t mean I would ever ask anyone else.
And just because you can’t see that you mean the world to me, doesn’t mean that you don’t.
But dear God, I’m such a fucking idiot. Like seriously, I make myself sick. All I had to do to keep my peace was to not pick up the phone. But I let my bullshit emotions swamp me and I called him. Bakura, my beautiful, flawed Bakura thinks I’m a whore. And maybe he has good reason to think so. Maybe if I had giggled shyly behind my hand and screamed and cried the first time, maybe if I had protested a little more every time maybe he would think better of me.
But I didn’t and I don’t, and so I must like it a little too much. Fuck that. Does Aisha scream when you fuck her or does she lie there like a log of wood, squeezing her eyes shut so the tears don’t escape?
He’s getting married. And I who need to fucking deal, can’t. I can’t deal with this. I can’t. Oh God, do something. He’s getting married and now he doesn’t want to speak to me anymore. Did fucking Aisha put him up to this? Did she? Because maybe I should string her up and bite her til she bleeds. Maybe.
And he asked today: Have you been with anyone else since me? And I said no. The truth.
Then he asked: Have you been with any girls since you were with me? And I said one. Once. Also the truth, as watching Ashley Emma playing with her pussy on cam doesn’t count. Web cam sex is not “being” with a girl.
And he called me a liar. Listen, Bakura, just because you whore every girl that comes your way doesn’t mean that I do the same.
I’m tired of loving him. Fuck it, I’m just plain tired. I’ve lost. He was the last thing I had that was mine and now he’s gone. Gone to a stupid, undeserving, Hausa girl.
Oh God! Why the fuck is murder wrong?
Forget murder, I just want to forget. And if tonight, I cut deep enough, I’ll forget everything. I’m not scared, I’m just tired. If I cut, and I know where to, I’ll forget. I’ll forget his smile, I’ll forget his voice, I’ll forget the smell of his skin, I’ll forget every time we made love and every time he was cruel. If I cut just right I won’t have to deal with my pain. It makes me a coward I know, but he’s a coward too.
Today he said things to me I’d only ever heard him say to other people. Today he yelled at me to shut up and I did. He yelled and I was quiet. Usually I can answer back but today was different I was just so sad. Isn’t it sweet that a few months ago he said he loved me? Isn’t it sweet that a few months ago I said I loved him too?
Isn’t it fucking quaint? If he loves me, and I love him too, then how come he’s getting married to someone else?
If I take all the pills in the bottle this time, I won’t have to deal with him, his bride, or his bullshit wedding. I won’t have to deal with the fact that today I said things to him I never imagined I would. I said it because I was hurt. And I gave myself to him because he was supposed to be the one. The ONLY one. But he fucked it all up and I helped him. I helped him be cruel, I helped him be evil. I helped him because I wouldn’t let him see weakness, I wouldn’t let him see me cry.
I’m so, so tired. I want this to end. I’m tired. Crying makes it hurt more, but not crying makes me want to cry. Am I supposed to hate him now? Because I’m trying fucking hard, but it’s not working. I think my Autopilot just fucking broke.
I would like one thing: To cut out my heart and lock it in a box and bury it somewhere. Bury it so no one, man or woman can ever touch it again. I’d very much like that. Fuck it, where’s my knife?
Tonight maybe I’ll cut a little. Tomorrow maybe I’ll cut a little more. Next tomorrow, I don’t fucking know. I called Mellowyel, but she had to catch a train. Then I cried into the phone like a bitchass. But I am a bitchass…. sometimes. Only when the clouds close in on me and everything goes dark. Maybe I’ll drink a little tonight to numb the pain, and then I’ll cut. Probably I won’t cut too much. Hopefully I will.
My head hurts, my eyes are red and swollen and they hurt too. My heart stopped hurting a long time ago. I’m surprised it still fucking beats. Shit, my heart probably has its own damn Autopilot and here I am complaining about how mine broke.
I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to do this. He was my first. First everything. He was everything, my last link to the life I had before. He was the gatekeeper to my happy place. He had the last key. He made me believe in magic, and now he’s taken it away.
I feel like I just came down from my high and it fucking hurts.
One pill makes you larger
One pill makes you small.
Bakura is the King, Namu is his best man. The rest of them are zombies.
Stole the Queen from her bed
And bound her in her bones
They cut out her heart
And they cut out his own
And left her all alone
Tonight, I want to sleep without seeing him. Because he haunts my dreams. Bakura was my last bottle of Never, and I just ran out. I wish he had died. I could have totally dealt with that. This, I’m about to lose my shit over.
Aren’t you, my little beast-whore, cute?