She leaves, you know. That’s what she does. Doesn’t matter how good a thing she’s got wherever it is she’s at, she’s gonna go.
And it’s not like she’s gotta go on a trip and come back or anything that simple. Not like she’s just itching to move around and she’ll remember you after she’s gone, keep in touch. That’d be too damn kind.
We had a good thing, a real good thing. I though she loved me, and maybe she did. Brid stuck around for a whole three years, and every time she realized another big chunk of time had gone by she’d say something like, “Can’t believe I’m still here.” Was like a little dig every time, like what I was trying to build didn’t matter to her at all.
I was coming into a lot then. We came into things about the same time, but I never had it in me to wander around like her. Didn’t even think I needed someone with me like that, but she has this way of getting to you, getting in your head. Maybe it’s the music? I don’t know, but she got in so deep, like she knew everything about me that I’d never told anyone else before, not in nearly a hundred years.
But I was coming up, I was getting established. Putting down my roots as deep as I could so I could make changes, the kinds we’d talked about. And we had this good thing that I thought was good for her, too. I’d made plans with her in them, thought maybe she’d settled, maybe she wanted the power I could get for her with how things were shaking out. The things we could’ve done together...
One night, I come home from court and she’s gone. No talk about it before, no hints, no warning. Just this little note on the dresser, ‘S- Gotta be on my way. Be well. Love, Brid.’ Just like that, she was out the door and out of the city and just gone, no calls no letters. Like she was just renting space in my haven, in my heart, until she got bored of it.
someone describing a time your OC hurt them
She leaves, you know. That’s what she does. Doesn’t matter how good a thing she’s got wherever it is she’s at, she’s gonna go.
And it’s not like she’s gotta go on a trip and come back or anything that simple. Not like she’s just itching to move around and she’ll remember you after she’s gone, keep in touch. That’d be too damn kind.
We had a good thing, a real good thing. I though she loved me, and maybe she did. Brid stuck around for a whole three years, and every time she realized another big chunk of time had gone by she’d say something like, “Can’t believe I’m still here.” Was like a little dig every time, like what I was trying to build didn’t matter to her at all.
I was coming into a lot then. We came into things about the same time, but I never had it in me to wander around like her. Didn’t even think I needed someone with me like that, but she has this way of getting to you, getting in your head. Maybe it’s the music? I don’t know, but she got in so deep, like she knew everything about me that I’d never told anyone else before, not in nearly a hundred years.
But I was coming up, I was getting established. Putting down my roots as deep as I could so I could make changes, the kinds we’d talked about. And we had this good thing that I thought was good for her, too. I’d made plans with her in them, thought maybe she’d settled, maybe she wanted the power I could get for her with how things were shaking out. The things we could’ve done together...
One night, I come home from court and she’s gone. No talk about it before, no hints, no warning. Just this little note on the dresser, ‘S- Gotta be on my way. Be well. Love, Brid.’ Just like that, she was out the door and out of the city and just gone, no calls no letters. Like she was just renting space in my haven, in my heart, until she got bored of it.