The problem is, I don’t think I deserve it.
I’m not pretty enough, not thin enough, not toned enough.
I don’t look after myself, I am too greedy, too lazy.
I’m not as nice as I think I am: I’m boring and awkward.
I believed something could happen with him because he made me believe I was attractive and beautiful and interesting. I needed to believe it was true so I needed him to commit to it, somehow.
He didn’t. Now I don’t believe.
I plan and I scheme and I wait for when:
When I lose weight.
When I get fit.
When I’ve dyed my hair.
When my kids are happy.
When I’m happy in work.
When I get a divorce.
When will when come?
It won’t come while I wait for it. So I plan to manufacture it. It hasn’t worked yet.
He was here and I coped. I ignored. I didn’t look though my eyes burned with want.
And at the corner of my eye I saw the tell tale signs. I heard the usual hints. The same game play with rules I can never understand.
Except acknowledging that the only way I win is by losing. Saying goodbye to when and hello to now.