Broken Doll

I say that I don’t understand. I don’t understand why. I don’t understand what meaning I’m supposed to derive from this. I don’t understand, if the gods are supposedly looking out for me, why it seems like I’m being continuously jerked around, denied what I need, isolated, emotionally starved, made miserable.

And then the conversation takes a sharp left turn and we’re arguing. I don’t even understand what we’re arguing about, much less why.

I guess I ought to shut up now. This happened the last time, too. No one wanted to hear about how I felt. They just wanted to argue me out of it.

Well you can’t argue feelings away. I care about him. He fulfilled me. I want him. I was (am) only a short trip away from loving him. This remains true and real and present whether you agree with it or not.

Ever more isolated.