FUCK YOU for cheating on me.
FUCK YOU for reducing it to the word CHEATING.
As if this were a card game, and you sneaked a look at my hand.
Who came up with the term cheating, anyway? A cheater, I imagine.
Someone who thought LIAR was too harsh.
Someone who thought DEVASTATOR was too emotional.
The same person who thought, oops, he’d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
This isn’t about slipping yourself an extra twenty dollars of Monopoly money.
These are our lives.
You went and BROKE our lives.
You are so much WORSE than a cheater.
You KILLED something.
And you killed it when its back was turned.
It scares me how hard it is to remember life before you. I can’t even make the comparisons anymore, because my memories of that time have all the depth of a photograph. It seems foolish to play games of better and worse. It’s simply a matter of is and is no longer.The Lover’s Dictionary by David Levithan
Oh, how I hated this word.
So pretentious, like it was always being translated from the French. The tint and taint of illicit, illegitimate affections. Dictionary meaning: a person having a love affair. Impermanent. Unfamilial. Inextricably linked to sex.
I have never wanted a lover. In order to have a lover, I must go back to the root of the word. For I have never wanted a lover, but I have always wanted love, and to be loved.
There is no word for the recipient of the love. There is only a word for the giver. There is the assumption that lovers come in pairs.
When I say, Be my lover, I don’t mean, Let’s have an affair. I don’t mean Sleep with me. I don’t mean, Be my secret.
I want us to go back to that root.
I want you to be the one who loves me.
I want to be the one who loves you.