It’s proof to show that I bleed for this
I’d cut myself to shame
To get to know this masochist
Who’s stolen my first name
hypocrite; definition: me.
As Kaggy says, it’s just who I am. And it’s what I do. The word, it’s suddenly a verb and an action and the one thing that can describe me best of all.
I’ve come to terms with myself. Yes, I want to marry him. Yes, I want to spend the rest of my life with him.
But tomorrow will only be your two month anniversary, how do you know?
How don’t I know? I know. I know. I’ve told him things I couldn’t even admit to myself. I never hesitate, I always tell him the truth, and the whole truth, even if I know it’ll cause an argument.
My god, I know. I don’t ever want to be with anyone else.
I have become cliched.
I have become a hypocrite.
I have become everything I scoffed off.
You have said everything I wrote off needing to hear. You have said everything that I needed to hear. You have said everything I begged God to hear before that part of me died away.
Every sweet word spilling from your lips, words that I had once cringed at, and became disgusted over, have me captured.
You are my future.
