1D Sexual Frustrations

Liam : The Left side of the bed

The book I had been reading earlier had fallen onto my face. I threw it to where it resided on the now empty other half of the bed. I turned on my side to look at. The place that had once held my whole world.

That side of the bed was made, like no one had been lying in it and in fact, no one had laid in it for 4 years now. I couldn’t bring myself to lay there or even touch it for that matter. It was even hard to look at, but over the months and years I had been without him; it had been a lot easier. It had been so bad on the first few days without him, that I couldn’t even bring myself to even stay in the room altogether, let alone the bed.

It was 3 a.m. and for some unknown reason, my brain didn’t want to shut off. Memories kept fighting their way to surface in my brain. Telling me how I shouldn’t have just let him walk out the door.

But I couldn’t stop him and I didn’t want to.

The Liam Payne that I had fallen in love with had somehow vanished.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I could take the tattoos, the change in attitude, and the edgier look and edgier ways. They weren’t all that bad. In fact, I liked it. I liked how Liam could be a teddy bear to cuddle into in the night and fall asleep beside, but could also be the bad boy that made you want to get him naked instantly.

I liked Liam like that. I loved it, in all honesty.

But whenever the Rougher side of Liam started to take control over the sweet innocent angel I had grown to love, that was when the problems started to arise.

He would spend the nights he was actually here out partying with people I didn’t even know. He would come home at nearly 4 o clock in the morning, reeking of alcohol, smoke, and shame.

He wouldn’t say anything whenever I would yell at him about not caring about our relationship, not caring about me.

I couldn’t bring myself to leave him though, for many reasons that I didn’t like to talk about or think about. I loved him that was one of the reasons. After 2 years with someone, you grow fond of them, you love them, and you see yourself spending the rest of your life with them.

But that wasn’t the case for Liam and me, you see. After 2 years of an amazing relationship, the love was starting to fade to the back of my head and the new found hate for him was starting to grow like a cancerous tumor. One that I had hoped could have been removed.

World War III is what I liked to call the fight that ended it for us. It was a long drawn out argument that included throwing of dishes at him as he stumbled through the front door at 4:33 a.m., too drunk to give a damn about the tears that had spilled down my face when I realized I had had enough of this. I smashed a vase smashed on the floor as the crazy side took over me as he stood there motionless, unsure of what was happening and why I was doing this because he was so blind to all the problems in our relationship including one that I had been trying to tell him about for 2 months that I never could because he never stopped partying enough to listen. After about 20 minutes of yelling, I had slid down against the wall crying trying to regain composure so I could be cool, calm, and collective.

When I had stood up, everything about me was shaking, my legs that were trying to hold me up strong and steady, my arm was shaking as I pointed at the door, and my voice –the worst of all 3- shook terribly as I told him to leave and to never come back, to not make contact with me because I was done.

He was a bit shocked at first, I could tell by the look in his eyes and the slight gap in between his lips as he tried to piece the situation together. We had told each other we’d always love each other and I wasn’t lying whenever I had said it. I just couldn’t keep living like this anymore. I need a stable environment to share with someone. This was far from it.