My Open Letter

While you’ve been scratching your seven-year itch with vodka, excuses, and dramatics, I’ve been doing some thinking.

Why have I held myself back out of respect for someone who clearly doesn’t have respect for those who love him and, most importantly, himself?

There are days when I’d LOVE to bury myself in blow and a bottle, the bed of a sexy stranger, a far-off corner of the globe. But I don’t. And I sure as hell don’t expect anyone else to take on the responsibility of babysitting.

I’ve worked way too hard to separate reality from fantasy, and keep past where it belongs. It takes a drowning victim to know a drowning victim, and this time, I’m not jumping in the water.

Learn to swim. Get yourself to the shore. Then we can talk.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s