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I Should Have Punched Myself Square in the Face


The first time I ever saw that man I wanted nothing more than punch him square in the face. He reminded me of the things I want and never gonna get; to be wanted; to be number one of someone’s priority. He reminded me of the things I said I would never do yet I’ve done anyway. He reminded me of the reasons I turn into someone I didn’t. He reminded of the poison I took, and looking at him now makes me want it more. He reminded me of the shits I’ve been through, pain I suffered, cruel words I said. He is the one behind my toxic pen I wrote crappy paroxysm with. 

I could make a thousand lists of why would I punch him in the face. 

He is terrible as a human being, he is terrible to me. 

One night he called me, laying himself open. And I rendered, erasing all of his sins from my resentment. The air became colder but the moment I let myself thinking that he probably doing that to many people, I faded into flames. 

I put up some reasons why I shouldn’t have butterflies when he is around. First, I am not his significant. I am not anybody’s significant. Second, the idea of him is dragging my ground into the dark. I hate being in the darkness because I am not able to see myself there. Third, I know him too damn well. That, and that alone should be the most solid reason of all. 

Maybe seeing him less often would make the urge to punch him a little bit lesser. 

Or maybe I should take the mind-over-matter classes so that I can control my emotion a little bit better 

Or maybe I should have punched myself square in the face

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