Tip of the Iceberg: I’m a ‘free’ man.

These are words coming out of me, tearing through my flesh, gunning open the flood gates and they cannot slow down. Not tonight, never tonight of all the nights. For it is very like that night many nights ago when I wished there never be another like this. But there is.

And you’ve done it.

You’ve pushed me to the edge and you’ve nudged me right over. You’ve done everything by the book, the role of a harmless-fuck-turned-douche-bag. You’ve harangued me, you’ve harassed me. You’ve made hell seem like a fully-paid-for Spa in Thailand. You’ve shown me your demonic, your inner Satan, your darkest desires, your hatred disguised in laughter, your ambition covered with an invisibility cloak of tolerance. You’ve  done it. You’ve nudged me over.

Five million phone texts and eight million phone conversations later, you’ve descended to your very best. You’ve finally done what I’ve been yearning, praying for, giving up exams and interviews and opportunities and a sane life for. You’ve made a choice to ‘We’re Done’ me and we’re done. We’re finally. Finally. Oh, so finally. Done.

No more leaving movies halfway through, because a phone call hurt you. No more begging on my knees in the middle of a crowded street because some comment hurt you. No more pleading to sit down on a busy bus because some song hurt you. Everything fucking hurt you. And finally, it hurt me too. You’ve done it. You’ve pushed me to the edge. And I’ve fallen right over.

And after you’ve said what you’d never say, done what you’ve never done. I’m free. I’m finally free. *Short maniacal laughter* I’m free. And never shall any other word fly out of me that utters your name or feels your skin dancing on its surface. For, I’m free. And so is my script.

 

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