"sorry mom, sorry god."
Even when you’re alone, you’re writing to some kind of audience. You’re writing to impress yourself. You write, because one day, someone just might find what you wrote and read it. If this weren’t the truth, maybe we wouldn’t write at all. The only reason you ever write something is so you can read it over and over again. Or maybe we would write things in some awful chicken scratch cipher, where the words are all backwards and scrambled around on the back of some cereal box. That way, those words only mean something the very second you write them, and you can’t ever go back. You would look at the stupid cereal box months later and not be able to read a word of it, or remember what you meant.
Me, I’m always writing for an audience. For some dumb kid to read. Maybe a friend, or lover. Mostly, it’s my passive aggressive way of getting under someone’s skin. In this case, I want to glorify love. Stare love straight in the eyes. Separate love from things that aren’t love. Night and day. Black and white. Nick and not Nick.
First and foremost, I have a confession to make. I know this is going to be shocking (ha.) As it was shocking to even myself. I just want to tell the whole fucking world. I am in love for the first time, ever. Anyone I have said “I love you” to in the past was lied to. And I’m not sorry for that. I’m not sorry because I wasn’t lying then-to my knowledge. I honestly thought love was sacrificing my own mental health for all these assembly line charmers, each equipped with their very own fucked up lives that I had to pay for every time I muttered the words “I love you too.” There was the cheating drug addict, the one with the insecurity issues (formerly known as ex-fat kid syndrome,) and the one who had so many weird random issues that I can’t even explain to this day. They weren’t mild issues either. They were the kind that had the tendency to give me wounds that matched the scars on my significant other. I had 2 anxiety attacks just arguing with him. And yes, I told him I loved him. Ha, ha, ha. It’s times in my life like those where I wonder if the drugs I did in high school actually caused brain damage.
Sorry former loves one, two, and three. You weren’t for me. And it wasn’t love so stop telling yourself that it was, because I have.
Most people don’t even know the meaning of respect. We become these indentured servants for our weaker-than lovers. Good people are usually nurturing people. We find these little lost fucked up losers and love them because we think that we can make some sort of community service project out of them. But the truth is, these people don’t want our help. They don’t want to help themselves. And they suffer and take it out on the rest of the world. Wandering around from person to person whining about this and that. The big fault in being a decent and caring person is as simple as putting up with peoples’ bullshit. We’re only making things worse…pouring out our hearts and letting it fester in selfish gushing open sores. People gushing with disease.
I’m finally starting to figure it out. God, just go for people who are out of your league. And I say “out of your league” because most people self deprecate so your idea of “out of my league” is usually right smack dab on your level. Find good healthy people who have most of their shit together. Instead of playing off one another’s faults, thrive off the strength. Just fuck together individuals instead of messed up ones-no matter how cute or intelligent or whatever you think is appealing about them. I know this sounds insane, but come on people. Think about it. People shouldn’t have to deal with your bullshit, so why should you deal with theirs? I’m sure there’s plenty of people out there who are good people, but with issues. Don’t let it fool you. Fuck them as well. Tell them to call you when they stop slitting their wrists.
I know I’m going off on a tangent now, but you have to understand where I’m coming from. I’m in love. In love with someone who has it all. Someone caring, intelligent, talented, thoughtful, and attractive. This is like taking cold showers your whole life, and then stepping into a hot one. What you thought was good actually wasn’t. And now you know. And you think, “Why did I settle for less?”
This isn’t “come over, get drunk with me and watch sex and the city re-runs all night and then pass out” love. This isn’t “I’m going to hate you because you’re better than me” love. This isn’t “Pick up my trash, pick up my past, wipe my ass” love either. This is the kind of love that turns your whole world upside down, but in a good way. The sky becomes more beautiful to gaze upon. The only thing you have to worry about is breathing. And nothing will ever be the same again.
I would sacrifice anything for this love. And this time it’s because I would and not because I have to. Every conversation we exchange ends, and I anticipate the next one. Everything feels beautiful and right. Everything is clear as water. I know what I want, and it’s this.
This is where I end and you begin.
Me, I’m always writing for an audience. For some dumb kid to read. Maybe a friend, or lover. Mostly, it’s my passive aggressive way of getting under someone’s skin. In this case, I want to glorify love. Stare love straight in the eyes. Separate love from things that aren’t love. Night and day. Black and white. Nick and not Nick.
First and foremost, I have a confession to make. I know this is going to be shocking (ha.) As it was shocking to even myself. I just want to tell the whole fucking world. I am in love for the first time, ever. Anyone I have said “I love you” to in the past was lied to. And I’m not sorry for that. I’m not sorry because I wasn’t lying then-to my knowledge. I honestly thought love was sacrificing my own mental health for all these assembly line charmers, each equipped with their very own fucked up lives that I had to pay for every time I muttered the words “I love you too.” There was the cheating drug addict, the one with the insecurity issues (formerly known as ex-fat kid syndrome,) and the one who had so many weird random issues that I can’t even explain to this day. They weren’t mild issues either. They were the kind that had the tendency to give me wounds that matched the scars on my significant other. I had 2 anxiety attacks just arguing with him. And yes, I told him I loved him. Ha, ha, ha. It’s times in my life like those where I wonder if the drugs I did in high school actually caused brain damage.
Sorry former loves one, two, and three. You weren’t for me. And it wasn’t love so stop telling yourself that it was, because I have.
Most people don’t even know the meaning of respect. We become these indentured servants for our weaker-than lovers. Good people are usually nurturing people. We find these little lost fucked up losers and love them because we think that we can make some sort of community service project out of them. But the truth is, these people don’t want our help. They don’t want to help themselves. And they suffer and take it out on the rest of the world. Wandering around from person to person whining about this and that. The big fault in being a decent and caring person is as simple as putting up with peoples’ bullshit. We’re only making things worse…pouring out our hearts and letting it fester in selfish gushing open sores. People gushing with disease.
I’m finally starting to figure it out. God, just go for people who are out of your league. And I say “out of your league” because most people self deprecate so your idea of “out of my league” is usually right smack dab on your level. Find good healthy people who have most of their shit together. Instead of playing off one another’s faults, thrive off the strength. Just fuck together individuals instead of messed up ones-no matter how cute or intelligent or whatever you think is appealing about them. I know this sounds insane, but come on people. Think about it. People shouldn’t have to deal with your bullshit, so why should you deal with theirs? I’m sure there’s plenty of people out there who are good people, but with issues. Don’t let it fool you. Fuck them as well. Tell them to call you when they stop slitting their wrists.
I know I’m going off on a tangent now, but you have to understand where I’m coming from. I’m in love. In love with someone who has it all. Someone caring, intelligent, talented, thoughtful, and attractive. This is like taking cold showers your whole life, and then stepping into a hot one. What you thought was good actually wasn’t. And now you know. And you think, “Why did I settle for less?”
This isn’t “come over, get drunk with me and watch sex and the city re-runs all night and then pass out” love. This isn’t “I’m going to hate you because you’re better than me” love. This isn’t “Pick up my trash, pick up my past, wipe my ass” love either. This is the kind of love that turns your whole world upside down, but in a good way. The sky becomes more beautiful to gaze upon. The only thing you have to worry about is breathing. And nothing will ever be the same again.
I would sacrifice anything for this love. And this time it’s because I would and not because I have to. Every conversation we exchange ends, and I anticipate the next one. Everything feels beautiful and right. Everything is clear as water. I know what I want, and it’s this.
This is where I end and you begin.