(no subject)
I need relief. I need one fucking minute of the day that doesn't radiate you. One aspect of my life to not be so saturated with you that nothing else can seep in. My eyes need to stop looking into a crowd and only seeing your face, smiling that same smile, making those same kissy faces. It's not fair and it's not right and it hurts because I did it. In my efforts to show you that I would walk out on my life to walk in and save yours, I pushed you out of mine.
I can't seem to break free, and I can't even begin to get over it because I do'nt know even where to start. How do you force something to stop, when you don't want to? It doesn't makes sense. I don't make sense. You did. I miss you so much more than I did five minutes ago. I'm tired of being tough, I'm tired of putting on my blank stare and my permanent smile just so nobody knows how bad I'm hurting. The truth is, I am. I'm completely broken and it's my own fault. You know what? no, I’m really not okay. I haven’t been in a long time and really, I doubt I will be again for a while. It’s come to the point where I don’t even know if I want to go through what it takes to be okay again, if what it’s going to take this a perpetual feeling of this. This is not okay. This is not good. This will never be good.
I know I've been vacant these past few months. I know that I've been busy and that I really wish I could stop and breathe but it's happening too fast. Everything is happening too fast and if I stop, things will pass me by. I'll lose track, I'll be thrown off-kilter, and that is the last thing that I need. Constance is the only thing keeping me sane and the second I lose it is the second I lose any bit of sanity that I have been clinging on to.
So, alright. This is the truth. I just don't see myself feeling better any time soon. And I realize that patience is the key, I've been patient for so long and I've been waiting for so long but I just don't know what the problem is, how to fix it, and how to fix myself. Everything that happens feels wrong. Everything that I do, have done unto me, feel, inflict: is wrong. You are wrong for knowing me and I am wrong for abusing you.
Everything that happens sets something off and I find myself just becoming a very angry, violent, destructive person that I have never been before. When I am finished there is broken shit everywhere and I can't remember why. I can't remember why and all I know is that it isn't enough. It isn't enough to break everything and scrape up my knuckles and I can't, for the life of me, figure out what is enough. I don't know how to fix this and this angers me because I don't want to be like this anymore. I don't want to be reduced to this every time something minor goes awry. That's not how I want to be, especially now.
I just feel very emotionally unstable and there are so many things that I don't understand about this. I don't know how I could make such a rapid change from being a constant, from being content with myself and my surroundings to becoming a storm of unfamiliar feelings. It's just such a drastic change and I don't know if I want to adjust to this or if I want to get rid of it. It's hard to explain but I can't even say that I am aware of who I am anymore. I can't tell when I have crossed the line into this new, psychotic alter-ego or if I haven't really crossed a line at all and this is just who I've become. This is just who I am.
That's it. This is what defines us: an insatiable hunger that we will never fulfill. It's not a question of whether or not we have the ability to satiate ourselves it's whether or not we want to satiate. We don't.
It's the fact that nothing will ever be enough that drives me to you. It's the fact that no matter how hard we kiss or how deep my fingers pad into the small of your back, I will never stop hungering for more. I will never stop wanting to take this to a higher level, to a point where the only time we will open our mouths is to moan, where the only time we will speak is to declare love and we'll know each others' thoughts from the motion of our bodies.
But it's okay, it's okay, it's fine. This is what we've got and where we're going and what we're doing and I loved this. This being us, us being you, you being the train of thought, me being a mess without you. A sloppy sililoquy, I sit on the edge of the stage with the lights white in my eyes, speaking to an audience of empty seats in an echoing auditorium. This is my aside
Sometimes I have sudden realizations of how large distance really is.
You are at one end of the dinner table and I am at the other, the appetizer is an ocean, the main course is a series of borders and the conversation distance, distance, distance.
If the distance between my side of the bed the the side I have designated for you is so far, I can't imagine the constant stream of space that must lie between us. Is it that I can't imagine, or that I wont? Pause, pause, pause. Neither, it's there.
Some things are inevitable that you can't avoid. I can sit here and imagine knowing the contours of your face beside candle light, I can sit here and imagine knowing the creases and folds of the skin on your hands, knowing how they overlap when you overlap me. But when it comes down to terms and I leave this room to go and lace my fingers through the hair on the back of your neck, you are not going to be there.
You will not be there to watch me smile when I think of you, you will not be there to watch me sway and swing my hips to songs that remind me of you, of being with you. You will not be there when I cook breakfast in the morning, pressing your hand against my stomach while you nuzzle my neck and we listen to the pancakes sizzling like the heat of our passion.
When it comes down to terms, I can't just leave right now and walk to your room, claim my side of the bed and wait for you to trespass. I can't expect you to stop by tomorrow night and take me down to the shoreline to teach me to swim, to fly beneath the waves, to stop me from falling before the summer is over and we are over and this is over.
No, I don't need space to think.
I need physicality, I need emotionality, I need to watch your eyebrows furrow, creases form on your forehead, I need to watch you cry and deny, make me promise never to tell. I need to watch your index finger press up against your lips, your lips absorb it, listen to the silence that follows. I need to watch you choke on laughter, breathe your tears, gasp.
It's so vulnerable to gasp, to turn the frightening need for air into a barely audible scream, it's so vulnerable to be afraid but I need to feel your fingers laced in mine, holding tighter with every second. We'll be afraid together just tell me where we're going but wait, if it's nowhere, I don't want to know.