I dont even know why we're together, if you find my body so distasteful. I dont even know why I like someone as unkind, as selfish, as money hungry as you. How you can look at my naked body, stretched out in front of you, and offhandedly say, "wouldn't it be great if your stomach always looked like that? Lets go to the gym!" And when I neglect to agree, when I try and brush off your confidence shattering, thoughtless remarks--you get pissed. With a last look of distain, you turn away, refusing to look at me any longer, and bite out, "Whatever. I dont even care anymore." And leave me. Naked and shattered. And refuse to acknowledge to me any longer. My mind numb with disbelief, that someone who claims to love me, would deliberately try and crush me. Destroy a shaky, self-proclaimed self-confidence.
...
And once I dressed, once I left the bedroom, you dare to act as though nothing had happened? As though our very relationship hadn't turned sour with those few careless words? You had the fucking audacity to get mad at me, when I became quiet and withdrawn? When I struggled not to slap you across the face, grab my things, and leave? What stranger are you, that I look at and see no one to love? An empty husk of a man, fragile as can be and would destroy the things around him, level out the ground so that he may walk without a care for tripping. But trip you have. For now, the very thought of you touching my body turns my stomach. Bile hits the back of my throat when you kiss me now. Perhaps its a failing of mine, that once friendship is lost--or trust, or love--that it would never be regained. Perhaps I am too rigid in this. But I am a forgiving soul, up to a point. And you sir, have straddled that line since the beginning. I simply refused to see. No, its not I who needs to change my body, its you who needs to change your soul.