Penny Cheater robbed me of two years of my life. Yeah, yeah, you can say or the counselors would preach that was “my choice“, or “I was responsible for my actions“. They may be right. But fuck that crap. I sat in a chair. It was all I could do. I watched TV, well I think it was on. I texted Penny Cheater crap, bollocks, fucked up shit, anything I could think of to stay connected to him, our past, my past, a 22 year past, anything past. I texted his number to make him listen. Hear my cries for help. He was the only one I turned to for help for 22 years. A habit very hard to break. And I needed him then. But the only thing he could hear was his new Cunt. I received the rare useless replies.
Ya gotta go through what you have to go through. Stop fighting it and let it drip. An intravenous drip of self-inflicted venom. And once the bag has drained, you actually actively look for the another similar bag of fucked up Penny Cheaters memory lane bullshit again and stuff it back down your throat coz you want it and have no idea how to stop it . It becomes enjoyably masochistic because it is ALL you can think about. Its consuming despite whats on the telly. You repeat the performance of a fucked up selfish asshole over and over again. Pissed me off but I could not stop it. Rewind. Play. Rewind. Play. Two years of the same fucked up show on repeat. Its ok. Its normal. I know that now. Took me two years to get bored with the repeats, find the remote control and change my channel to a new episode called “its my life“.