subject line: the game.


sydney, australia 

It’s our little game. It used to be fun. But then I started losing. And I’m wondering how many times I have to lose before I realise this game sucks. I never get to pass go. I never get to collect the $200.

I give. He takes.

I give him my bed. I give him my body. I give him my heart.

And he, well he takes my bed. He takes my body. He takes my heart.

... And then he leaves in an Uber. And I’m left alone, in an empty bed, with an empty body, and a broken heart, watching Friends episodes until I fall asleep, because it’s the only comfort a girl can find at 3am.

But I’m done. I’m too competitive to try and play a game I’ll never win. So I’m taking back my bed, even if it feels a little bigger tonight. I’m taking back my body, even if it feels a little less pure. I’m taking back what’s left of my heart, because I know He who can put it back together again.

I’m starting my own game. And this time? You’re not allowed to play.