It dissapoints me. What does?
When you looked at me tonight, across my lovely plate of healthy cod fish that you thought I should start eating so I could maintain my weight and your wholesome chunk of steak that I actually wanted to order; a little part of me died.
You didn't see " me " that you fell in love with. In fact, you didn't see me at all. It was as though I've just become a nice piece of furniture in your life. I made myself invisible for you. I extinguished the fiery brilliance that I used to bounce off the walls with. Deep down I know that if I hadn't watered myself down for you, if I was still the girl you went through the motions of falling in love with, I would embarrass you. Without a doubt.
You always wanted me to sit down and be still. Just smile and look good. You thought I didn't make good arm candy.
I don't like who I became for you. I hate it! I don't like the way you silently critique me with your eyes. I don't like the way the corner of your mouth turns down when you ask me, " Are you really going to wear that?" I don't like it when you tell me that I shouldn't have cracked that many jokes, told that many stories, laughed that loudly or danced that wildly! I hate it when you tell me that two beers are more than enough.
I hated the fact that I needed your approval. As though I equated to nothing without a nod from you. I based my self-esteem on you and now I feel like a fool for doing so. It wasn't really the love in your eyes that lit me up. Rather, I needed you by my side so that everyone else could see that someone, at least someone, thought I was good enough. That thought alone now makes me want to hurl.
But the time has come, for my life to be about me and only me. Life with you isn't creating anymore interesting stories to tell. To hell with you, baby.
I've got me.
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