goddamn

I don't fucking understand why I always get in these situations. The fucking stitches in my mouth are the least of my concern right now. Why can't he just be honest? Why is it so hard for him to say he loves me? Is it because whores tell him all the time? Last night it took so long to make him tell me because he didn't want me to get 'pissed off'. Oh, she might be carrying your child, but that's no big deal. No, I'm not ignoring you, I'm just not talking because my voice will crack and you'll know I'm crying. No, I'm not mad, just tell me.... when did you last see her? Do you... love her? When will she know? When did you last fuck her? Is she is, are you sure it's yours? Will she keep it? Are you going to come home? Were we talking when you did? The questions flowed out of my mouth like the salt water that was flowing from my eyes. As I write this, thousands more questions are scattered in my head and the only thing I want to do is call and ask you all of them. But what will you think of me? Will I seem clingy? Why do I even care? At this point, what do I even know?