I thought my broken relationship was merely mildly sprained. Now I am beginning to see that radical surgery may be required. Radical surgery in the form of amputation.

I’ve just got to decide what course of treatment to take. Difficult decisions. Is the relationship worth attempting to fix? I don’t know. I’ve sacrificed so many things. My love isn’t enough. How do I go on from whatever action I decide to take? If I go ahead with the operation, putting things back together after living with the symptoms for four years is going to be tough. Either way, it’s going to affect me for a very long time to come. If only there was some guidence in the form of a treatment regime.

The stupid thing about it all is that I care for the broken one more than anyone else in the world. I love him when all around me are urging me to excise. I’m used to having my heart ground into the carpet, it’s happened so often my supply of replacement monkey hearts is beginning to dry up.

Hopefully I can find a workaround- Preserving myself from pain whilst keeping my lil shark close to me. I don’t want to amputate.

Did I mention I love him? Yes, I’m a total ‘tard. No, he doesn’t love me back.

If I could just come to accept that I am going to be alone in this world then I could rest easy. Thing is, I think i would have to perform reduction surgery on my heart. It would just be nice for once in my short, pathetic existence if I could end up on the winning side. The happy side, who get to scream We Are The Champions whilst getting some sweet team loving.

But this is me i’m talking about. I saw a t-shirt today in the hospital waiting room that said “I think, therefore i’m single” Too true. I’m a good person, interesting, funny, intellegent, not too bad looking, loyal and loving. Therefore I am such a loser.

Find me somebody to love, and give just a little love in return. Is that too much to ask? Seems so.

One Response to dislocated

  1. aeuropean says:

    There is not much one can say. My words will do little to soothe a Monky heart but perhaps they can console a little. I don’t pretend to understand or have the answers. I am not you. However I can listen to your textually restricted emotional tirade. I have read your words. I have listened. I await more. Why? Because I am a care bear.