Dear Mr Thief,
You got me good. I lowered my standards because of you. Shame. On. Me. I accepted what you tossed at me without a second thought. Without a second glance. You threw substandard at me and I caught it . . . easily. No qualms. No complaints. No buts. Anything you wanted to give me, I accepted. Readily. Easily. I didn’t realize it at first, and as the years went on, I still didn’t realize it. My bad.
I soaked up all of your excuses and took them as word. I believed and trusted. I felt sorry for your sorry ssa. I so was blind. I couldn’t see past the overwhelmingly comfortable, unconditional, and undeniable love I had for you. And only you. You were my upgrade. My elevation from the others I knew in the past. That’s what I saw. That’s what I knew.
Then it all got skewed. All of it. I was buried under my love and devotion. I got off the course of me. I sailed around in what I thought was well charted and familiar waters . . . with you. Then I realized the waters were uncharted and choppy. Deep, dark, and unknown. An abyss. I couldn’t see the end until it was over me. Consuming me. Drowning me. And you were not there. You’d already checked out and didn’t bother to tell me.
I’m worth more than the gas station presents and the after thoughts you showered me with. I’m worth more than sailing excursions on rough seas, dipping and bobbing in the cold waters, turning green, waiting for you to fully realize what you had, as I held my breath and waited . . . and waited. Not even realizing I was waiting.
So Mr thief, you can take your $5, gas station, raggedy, fuzzy, stuffed animals that no grown woman ever wants . . . EVER. And take your half dead, scrawny, gas station roses that you so carelessly and thoughtlessly brought home for me . . . from the gas station . . . on the way home . . . and shove them somewhere way deep down inside of your core. Shove them in the same place where your heart once was. Shove them into that dismal, dark, dank pit of a soul that became you.
No more lowering my expectations. No more lowering my standards. No more gas station presents. I’m worth so feezing much more.
