Hurt

Every time someone leaves me or brings me grief, you come around and hold my hand. Well, I don't want you holding my hand anymore. I can take care of myself. I owe myself that. I can't allow you to be the first person I always see when I need to feel defensive or pity for myself. Your availability is uncanny. You always seem to be around waiting for that next moment that I'd take you out for a night on the town. . .or perhaps bring you to my bedroom where we sit down and share the taste of you together.

Well I'm not dating you anymore!! Your appearance signifies defeat. It gives power to the person who made me feel you by making me bond with you that much quicker and that much more easily. You have to leave now. Let go of my hand. I'm too old to go through this with you for every little act of aggrandizement I give my problems. It is a coping mechanism, but it doesn't mean you have to come around here looking for me, prolonging my feelings of you. Hurt, I ask you, nay, implore you, to please go away and don't come back until my need is so great for you that your presence is warranted.

Thank you.