Continuing on with the drudgery of things that must be done, I lament a lover who has been neglected for far too long. I am amazed at her patience with me. That she even puts up with the lack of attention that she as gotten from me lately. Yet, she’s always there when I return. Waiting. Patiently. Wanting me to pour my heart out to her as I have done so many times in the past.
I’ve allowed myself to become caught up. Caught up in in my work and school. Too many hours committed to necessary pursuits that offer no promise of happiness. At the end of it all, I’m simply too exhausted to give her the attention she deserves. She deserves so much more than I have been able to give her lately.
There is so much I want to tell her. I want to share with her my innermost thoughts and desires. I want to discuss with her what’s going on in my life. I want to share even the most mundane occurances in my life, yet I can’t seem to find the words.
I am amazed that she sticks around. That she is still there even when I put other things before her. No one else would put up with neglect. Neglect is is a passive form of abuse in which the perpertrator is responsible for providing care to a victim who cannot take care of themselves. I am that perpetrator. She is the victim of my malaise.
All I can say to her is that I’m sorry. I will try to be more attentive to her. I will try to work harder to open up to my negected lover. The name of that lover is …
(*What did you think I was talking about?)
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