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Blame (written by a cunt)
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I want to be the one you blame for things. Not just the things I caused, your burnt dinner, the untidy room, the phone call I forgot to tell you about. I want you to blame me for everything. That thing at work that really screwed up your day. The idiot driver who made you slam your fists against the steering wheel on your way home. The waitress who got your order wrong. Bad weather. Traffic jams. Everything.
I want you to save your anger for me. Don’t forget about it, let it build up until you finally get home, until you can finally make me pay for all the bullshit these stupid idiots put you through on a daily basis. You used to shout and throw things but now you’re calm. Because you know at the end of the day you can bury your fist in my face and listen to that sweet sound the impact makes. You can kick me, yell at me, punch me, drag me around by my hair until you’re exhausted and your hands hurt.
Your friends, family and colleagues have noticed how much your temper has improved since you met me. At first they thought it was my calming influence on you but deep down they knew it would take a lot more to change someone like you, someone so primal and uncontrolled in his rage. Maybe they suspect something. They must’ve seen glimpses of it, a wince when you move your hand too quickly, a bruise that can’t be explained, a scared look flashing over my face when someone spills their wine and it stains your shirt. They must know but they choose to ignore it, because they like the new you. The nice guy, the guy who brushes over any apology with a smile that says “don’t worry about it”. Who tells his intern that anyone could’ve messed up that appointment. It’s okay. It’s no big deal. They feel so much more at ease around you, they don’t have to walk on eggshells anymore. Instead they joke with you and tell you how relaxed you seem now that you have me. Maybe they feel bad for me sometimes. But then again, I could leave, couldn’t I? It’s my own fault, like everything.
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Posted on : Mar 22, 2017
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