I feel less mad
toward the guys who tell me they just want me for sex
than I feel toward you.
At least they tell me right away
what I should expect
instead of writing to me for four months and then telling me they can’t see me.
Maybe I am the “crazy girl”
who is filled with anger and sadness all at the same time,
and so I can’t think of anything better to do
than to write down everything I feel
until the number of words on these pages match the number of words you wrote to me.
The worst part is that my anger and sadness are the rational kind,
the kind that understand you and your fears
and why you backed out
and how good of a person you actually are.
But it still doesn’t make it ok
that you made me wait four months
to tell me that we were expired.
Or maybe I am completely fine,
and so I’m just writing down these words because I want to feel something.
I want to feel furious when I’m only disappointed.
I want to feel devastated when I only feel jaded.
I want you to know that I’m OK, even though I don’t want to be.