Hermosa & the Bi☥ch

There's no holiday cheer in our home. It never is. Any cheer truthfully, unless I supply it. I'm tired thou. Overworked & underappreciated. It's in my face. It's in every single, "Don't worry about it." I mutter. But it's unnoticed. Ignored. Not a priority. I'm trying to b the best friend/lover/partner/parent/person possible. Breaking my spirit. Stressing. I'm drained. But I must paint on a smile. Say that I'm fine... wonder if I'd b missed when I'm gone???

Let’s get this clear… I’m not the woman that he complains about. I’m not that woman in which he bad mouths. I’m the woman whom he doubts. The one when he’s in jam, bails him out. When he’s struggling, helps him out. The one he leaves to go to others and lie about. Let him tell it, he’s been single for the past several years. I’m just his best friend whom he holds quite dear. I think he figures when his life becomes that of his dreams, he’ll find someone better than me. But now while he’s still on his way, I’m best to have in his pocket, his ace in the hold, isn’t that what they say? But that woman who doesn’t know how to treat a man, he always speaks of, he once claimed as his wife, so I’m guessing they were madly in love. He hasn’t moved on from her, I believe no one compares. Not to her cooking, cleaning, or fashionable flair. She must have set a standard so high, because since her he hasn’t had a romantic life. Being such a close friend, I’ve witnessed him since. My

I've learned that when it comes to my relationships, I'm the problem. I'm the reason for the arguments. I don't understand. I don't listen. I don't care. I don't answer questions correctly. I won't change. I don't consider other's feelings. I don't make time. I don't plan dates. I don't cook for them. I don't cook well. I'm always in/on my phone. I'm always on my computer. I'm always on a social network. I don't talk to them. I isolate myself. I don't try to bond with their family/friends. I'm sneaky. I lie. I hide shit. I'm secretive. I'm sensitive. I'm argumentative. I LOVE to debate. I'm stuck up. I'm not humble. I'm childish. I'm not sexual. I'm cold. I'm not affectionate. I don't care about how I look. I'm not tidy. I'm wild. I don't make good choices. I'm emotional. I'm rebellious. I'm not wife material. I won't let anyone in. I don&#

     Other people make a space beautiful. I kinda feel dumb writing about this. However I have a lot on my chest. I made the decision to start a new life. I have convinced myself that in order to move forward, I must let go of the past. I am giving up my home. Not house but HOME. A place that I built with my love and my dreams. My comfort zone is going to be gone. I’m giving up my childish ways. My stuffed animal friends, my doll baby (I say it backwards because although she is a doll she is MY BABY.) I will no longer be able to put things the way I want them or how I want them. I am letting go of my space. My individuality, creativity, my freedom will be boxed up or thrown out or sold. No longer will I be able to enjoy the company of pets that I am used to. With each word I type I begin to question the choice I am making. Only because I am giving up soooo much on a hope, not a guarantee. Not a promise, not even a wish, or an expectation. Sacrificing my EVERYTHING for what if. I ha