What I was thinking when I asked Tom to buy me a dog...
Love. It’s such a strange word. The meaning has been so
blurred and confused within my life that I’m not quite sure that I even know
what it means anymore. At one point I thought I loved George. I know I love
Tom. But… I don’t know if Tom loves Daisy. His affections for me are obvious. I
mean he got us a secret flat to live in together and buys a train ticket to
visit me and so much more… but he always goes back. I try to hammer it into my
head that he doesn’t love Daisy, and that he only loves me. However, my subconscious
sneaks in every time, whispering to me, “But Myrtle… if he truly didn’t love
her. Then he’d leave her. In fact, he would’ve left her long ago. But he hasn’t.”
I hate these thoughts. I have them far more often than I’d
like to. I wish I could push them aside, but they’re right. The more I think about
it, the more obvious it becomes. I’ve never been allowed to visit him. He only comes
to visit me. He’s told me before never to mention Daisy. Occasionally I have
out of anger or spite or even pure curiosity, but it never ends well. Some
people find it random that I had him buy me a dog. As pathetic as it sounds,
sometimes I need little reminders that’s even though he’s still married to
Daisy, he loves me. The little investments he makes are the only things that
keep my doubt from overtaking me. The apartment, the dog, the countless other
gifts he’s bought me. It’s not that he’s buying my love… it’s just that I
occasionally need a small investment as a physical reminder of his love. Is that really so bad?
Most affectionately,
-Myrtle
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