I Didn't Want to Love You

I knew this was inevitable but it doesn't make it hurt any less. I just wished I would have had more time with him before he realized I wasn't worth his time, his effort or his heart. I'll never get that time with him, I'll never see that effort and I'll never have a part of his heart. And I have to be okay with that no matter how much I don't want to be.

He promised that even though he can't follow through that he still felt something. I don't know how much I believe that even though the evidence is in his favor. He would tell me how he was going to take me out, buy me dinner, go to the movies... things we never did. And never will. He would know when I needed a hug and would push past my stubbornness to embrace me the way I loved. I could calm him down in anger and he would comfort me in my insecurity. Those little things made the difference. I didn't want to love him and I knew if I got too close I would. But how was I to resist that sweet spot between his chest and shoulder where I could rest my head? How was I to resist the way he would lightly trail his fingers across my shoulder blades, the way I like best? How was I to resist his safe arms and warm touch? How was I to keep my distance enough so that I wouldn't fall in love with him? I tried. But quite obviously I failed.

Now he is walking away and I know that I should keep him at a distance but I know if he somehow mustered a change of heart and walked into my apartment, embraced me and asked for another shot, I would take him back no matter how much I know I shouldn't. I shouldn't go back to someone who didn't appreciate what they had. I shouldn't go back to someone who has said and done such cruel things in our parting. I shouldn't, but I got too close and I now know about all those little things that he did that made me love him in the first place. All those precious things are still fresh in my mind yet at the same time all those cruel things are still fresh in my mind. I lay in bed and can almost imagine how he would be holding me, how his fingers would trail up and down my side and then I remember I will never have that again. Then there is nothing to keep me from crying. When I'm lonely, he is still the one I think about and he is still the one I want by my side cheering me up.

I'm trying to forget it ever happened but I don't handle rejection very well. And he didn't handle rejecting me very well and made it hurt so much more than it needed to. Now he thinks everything I do or say is an act of malicious intent or venomous attack and doesn't see my bite as a reaction from how much I sting from his words. He doesn't see how me talking or being around him is me trying to treat him like I would if we were friends. I'm still hurting like hell so it's not going to be okay overnight. I'm trying but having everything I do being turned into a fight and leaving me more hurt isn't helping. I still love him but I'm losing faith that we can try to remain friends as he has requested because it sure doesn't feel like he is trying and he keeps hurting me every time he says he wants the fighting to be over.

I'll never understand why he left me to begin with. I feel like a piece of trash on the side of the road-- used and tossed out a car window. And because he can't articulate why he left, I'm left to continue feeling that way. I'm starting to think it's better just to cut him out of my life for good. If only he weren't trying to date my friend.

E J Royson

What Makes You So Saintly?

What makes you so saintly as to judge me by my sins,

Whereas I should have forgiven, instead gave up and caved in?

I'd like to see you do differently while suppressing a fit of rage,

And don't bother patronizing me by saying it comes with age.

I know you think you're above me and in some ways that may be true,

But hating me for my repented sin shows who's better than who.

~ E J Royson

If You Only Knew the Damage...

They tell me that I have self worth
but boy how little they know
It's been chipped and stripped away from me
since about middle school or so.

They would batter me with words
or teach me my worth with actions
and each time I'd fight to be strong again
just to watch their shocked reactions.

"How are you so strong?" they'd ask,
and I'd just shrug and smile
but over time it's become much harder
and overcoming takes quite a while.

Now after being friends so long
and falling in love for a month or two
he's shattered my self worth like all others
and I think I have run out of glue.

I can't put the pieces together alone
and he no longer wants me in his life again
he neither wants me friend nor lover
and told me that I was his biggest sin.

I guess that's all I am to everyone-
a stain on an otherwise perfect record
and to him I must be no different,
an immoral demon he apparently can't afford.

His friends all said I was using him-
oh how ironic that turned out to be.
He let me fall in love with him
before telling me he can't afford me.

So this is why my self worth is gone-
it's been told to me far too often
that all I do is ruin people's lives
so I guess I must really be that rotten.

E J Royson

Chasing Time (Prologue)

            Kala waited silently next to her mother, young enough to be terrified, but too old to take her mother’s hand. Instead, the thirteen year old girl sat in the wooden chair, bouncing her legs nervously, awaiting the unjust fate her father had always warned about. But he was gone now for the war spared no one. All that remained of her once great country was this city where all had come for refuge but none were willing to give it.

            There were two doors. Most of the refugees went through the door on the left when their name was called. It had to be where they were given some sort of restitution for their support for their country and were assigned a place to live, then were ushered out the back of the building so as to keep the line moving. At least, that’s what Kala and her mother believed. They had been waiting in this line for three days and were finally inside where the wait had continued for hours.

            Outside, Kala met a girl, perhaps a few years older, with the most beautiful amber curls and bright green eyes. Kala tried to befriend her, to have a friend in this foreign city, but the girl wanted little to do with Kala, even after Kala’s mother invited the lonely girl to be her impromptu child so as not to suffer alone in the city. But the girl proclaimed her family name and wealth prohibited her from speaking to dirty refugees, which Kala found odd for they stood waiting in the same line. But the girl stood without family and refused to show emotion.

            Once the girl with the amber curls was called, Kala knew she and her mother were next. The girl was asked to step through the door on the right—only the second Kala had seen. The other had been a young man, a war veteran.

            When Kala and her mother were called, they rose from the uncomfortable chairs and walked over to the door on the left. Stepping through, their few belongings were searched and put on a conveyor belt with a promise that they would be returned. They stepped through another door into a room where others were waiting, most sitting on the floor. A door on the opposite side of the room was closed and it seemed as if they others were avoiding sitting near it. Only in that place was there a little floor space left so Kala and her mother could sit through this waiting process for a few more minutes until a shout was heard.

            “Last one!” the voice yelled and two large men barged into the room carrying a struggling boy who couldn’t have been too much older than Kala, perhaps age seventeen.

            “Let me down!” the boy yelled and was consequently thrown to the floor. He scrambled over to the other door next to where Kala was sitting and began to pull on the handle. “I have to get out. I have to get out,” he kept mumbling. The others in the room were becoming unsettled and begged him to calm down or they would all get thrown out. The boy sat down next to Kala and pulled off his shoe.

            Watching intently, Kala saw the boy pull a thin metal instrument from the sole of his shoe. “What’s that,” Kala whispered.

            “Lockpick. They’re going to flood the room with a neurotoxin and I will not be here when they do.”

            Kala’s mother reached over her daughter and grabbed the boy. “What’s your name boy? Are you serious?”

            “Sam. My father engineered the toxin before they murdered him. Yes I’m serious.” The boy stood back up and began to play with the lock.

            Kala wondered if this boy was just crazy or if he was telling the truth. Either way, she had never felt quite so helpless.

“How much time do we have?” Kala’s mother asked.

            “I was the last one. Maybe seconds. It will come up from that grate in the middle of the floor. Someone in the room gave a cough and Kala grabbed her mom’s arm. Her mother kissed her head and held Kala tightly. Suddenly, just as Sam got the lock to click open, gas began to shoot upward from the floor. Sam grabbed Kala’s hand and pulled her through the door.

            “Mom!” Kala yelled, yanking from Sam’s grip. She helped her mother up and they both began to cough. There were large men, like the ones who dragged Sam into the room, waiting outside. However with the door to the room wide open, they too began to cough. They managed to grab Sam and throw him against the wall.

            “Go!” he choked.

            Kala and her mother raced out the back of the building and took off towards the blockade around the city. The gates were so thickly flooded with refugees that no one took notice to the two escaping the city.

            “That boy saved our lives,” Kala’s mother said breathlessly after they were safe in what remained of the woods.

            “At least we know his name,” Kala suggested.

            The two sat, catching their breath for a moment. “Looks like it’s just you and me, baby girl,” Kala’s mother said and kissed the top of her daughter’s head.

#ROFLMAO at You and Your Twitter

I find it funny, those who won't move on,
Who post ridiculous things on Twitter
about who they hate and who they date
and how people should just be quitters.

They talk shit about everyone in their life
because they're bored with their own
even those who've left, tired of the bullshit,
Are still told they don't belong.

They hate yet still cling to their ex's
Because they need someone to despise.
Even ex-friends face social media's wrath
As if hurtful words could bring their demise.

So here's what I have to say to you,
All you pretentious bored little bitches:
Hop off of those you've kicked from your life,
Grow up and put on your big girl britches.

There's no room in this world for whiners,
We have enough politicians for that.
But if you can't bear to tear away from it
At least you give us someone to laugh at.

~E J Royson