I need better hobbies.

Anyone in the mood for early morning melodrama? No? Too bad.




“You—wait—what?!” I couldn’t quite wrap the idea around my head, it screamed out against everything I had thought I understood about us.

“I said that I’m leaving you, I didn’t stutter.” She didn’t stutter, she did say it kind of slow though. Maybe she thought it’d sink in if she spoon fed me the words. It wasn’t working.

“You’re deserting me?” It seemed that way. “No!” Probably not the best reply in all honesty. “I refuse, I’ll… I’ll block the goddamn door!” Once again, probably could have thought of something better to do. “I mean, weren’t we good? I thought we were. I loved you, you loved me!” We loved each other. “How can you just ignore all the good we had? How could you do this to me; to us?!” Very easily apparently.

“Please, you’re getting carried away feeling sorry for yourself.” So what? If she was going to leave I had earned the damn right to feel sorry. “Did we have good times, yes, but let’s cut it out with these revisions and gaps in history.” Let’s not. “Do you want me to help you remember?” Not particularly, no. “I could make charts, graphs… it should make it clear. Hell, give me a few minutes, I’m sure I can work up a lecture on why I have to leave.” Sarcasm, cute… “So please, just let this go.” Like hell.

“I can’t, I love you. I love you so much.” It is true. “I can make this better. I know I messed up, but I swear, I’ll never hurt you again.” Stage three: Bargaining. “Marry me.” What? “Listen, there could be nothing better than making you my bride, and growing old together with you.” I would have gotten down on one knee, but I wasn’t sure which one, and you’d be surprised by how fast a moment like that can pass you by.

“Oh don’t you feed lies about some idealistic future.” Won’t know if they’re lies until you try. “Your heart won’t heal right if you keep this up.” Well, forgive me for ripping out the sutures on a wound you caused. “We had something special, I won’t deny that, but you’ve had your chance.” And I blew it. “Goodbye.” I can’t bring myself to say it back, but it doesn’t seem to matter.

You know what's a good hobby?

Using any kind of stimulant.

I prefer depressants. I'm already hyper as it is.

By the theme of this story you could use an upper.

With all the Cartels coming in cocaine shouldn't be hard to find.

I don't know, I just kind of felt like writing about a couple splitting up; doesn't mean I need uppers.

They're both bitches & should be shot.

I bet you wrote it because you're venting and trying to pass it off as some out of nowhere short story.

I'm not venting, though I don't deny that I might benefit from doing so. Here hardly seems like the place for that though.

Do it.

It's not. It's fucking not.

I know it isn't. Why on God's green, fucking Earth would I vent to you, or Harley?

'Cause you love us.

Or hate yourself.

Neither of those are true.

Because you have nobody else.

Also, you're on here, so clearly all of this is true.

None of it is true. I'm not here because I hate myself, I'm here because you asked me to come here for months.

Denial is the first step.

Are you (Neo and Harley) saying that you all hate yourselves? Odd, I figured you both had some kind of superiority complexes going.