This Damn Song

Well, I don’t wanna hear the good side of this goodbye
If you wanna go, baby, just leave
Don’t tell me that you still care and that I’ll always be special
‘Cause those words don’t mean a damn thing
And I hate that I’m still up, drunk as fuck
4 a.m. writin’ this damn song
But I guess I’m okay, not bein’ okay
Give it time and I’ll soon move on (Mm)

We argued last night.

We did what any person will tell you not to – we went to bed without saying a word. Silence kills. We should know this. But the truth is we’re broken. Individually we’re broken and all of those broken pieces just don’t come together to complete the puzzle. We’re both too damaged separately to be able to complete one another. Instead we crumble each other slowly over time; turning the broken pieces to dust.

I said we went to bed without apologizing, without speaking, avoiding, allowing it to smoulder for the next wind storm…

I silently walked on eggshells, I counted the minutes until you fell asleep and I could breathe, I was too mad to cry, I had heart palpitations. I tried to be normal; bathtime, bedtime, school morning prep, folded laundry, ran the dishwasher, what I normally do. But it was in a fog, a daze. Why one might wonder – because you.

You choose to drink. You allowed yourself to be in a buzzed/drunken stupor playing YouTube music loudly – with its message heard LOUD and CLEAR. Maybe you don’t know how much music is my therapy. How a song can heal me, how a song can persuade me, how I a song can say everything without saying anything, I think you get the picture.

I understand the need to use music to heal; but choosing to play endless break up songs, and “I’m the Problem” (M.Wallen) on repeat OVER and OVER, knowing we’ve talked about that song in particular in my presence I 100% took it as your way of answering the hard questions. As though it was your final breaking point.

It was your finale.