You still love me. No, you bloody don't. You never friggin did. Peter Pan never loved Wendy. If he did, he would've grown old with her. But he's too much of a coward. Bloody Peter.
Hello, babe. You call me up again. That drawl on its normal husky state, resurrecting long dead memories and conversations. Why did I stop calling you? You know better than to ask, sweet. Don't you know? Us is over.. Ex-lovers don't call each other after break-ups.. Especially after bitter ones. Though ours certainly didn't end that way. At least send me a text message, and it would sustain me through the day, you say. And what shall I text you? That I bloody miss you?? But I don't, babe. Not anymore.
Who's bloody face you gonna punch? No, I'm not going out with someone. Too busy for that. Commitment issues. You think it was you who had commitment issues? You might as well know-- my commitment issues goes much deeper than yours.
You're bloody drunk, babe. Sleep it off. Strange how you are always drunk everytime you call, I can almost smell the liquor. I don't like that one bit. I mean, you being drunk, everytime you call. You always sound defeated when you do that you know. You talk like you've faced a million bloody (literally) battles, unprepared. Makes me feel guilt-ridden when I shouldn't. Ain't my fault. All I did was fall in love with you. I just got-- still am-- tired of your emotional fuckwittage. No more of that, please. Either we're together or not. Either you grow up or not.
You still love me. No you bloody don't. You never friggin did. Peter Pan never loved Wendy. If he did, he would've grown old with her. But he's too much of a coward. Bloody Peter.
Weeks had passed (or was it only days?) and thoughts of you didn't even cross my mind, like it fervently used to before. Where's the backbone, babe? You used to have lots of it. Weeks had passed ( or was it days? Can't remember) since the last time you called. Backbones gone osteoporotic, huh?
You miss me. You don't have to say that. Because I know you still do.
I didn't miss you, but suddenly I do. That scares me.
Yes, I'll be leaving soon. Looking forward to that. What, don't want me to leave? Why? Humor me. Oh, wanna get back together again? Just might postpone my departure indefinitely. No? That's wicked funny. You think this is all child's play, don't you, Peter?
You're just drunk.. Sleep it off. We're done, like forever. I won't wait for anybody. Especially for someone who takes forever to grow up and evolve. Expect not to hear from me again, you bloody fuck. Good night.
You called me up again.. That husky drawl that never failed to raise the hair on my arms.. Those gentle hands discovering me.. Those eyes all over illiciting explicit reactions upon my flesh. That laugh, reminding me of what was, could've been, might've been... everything..
But I'm just tired of you.. Bloody tired of you and your emotional fuckwittage..
**Emotional fuckwittage: Used first in Bridget Jones' Diary, it has now become a synonym for the mindgames men play when dating. It can be preceded by "emotional" to make it about manipulating emotions or just plain "fuckwittage".
*Fuckwittage: One who screws with people's emotions.