(no subject)
i feel the need to write until i can't write anymore. you know what, there are a lot of things i need to do. i need to wash out these 3 year old wounds with salt, no matter how badly it hurts. and that's what im going to do right now. this is the most honest entry i can possibly create in a time when i'm fighting to keep myself from becoming jaded and to enable my freedom... you know.. the kind of freedom i had at age 15 before he came back into my life. i need to feel like i've gotten the poison out of my system, no matter how much i hate purging. this is my basic physical and organic need.WARNING: THESE WORDS ARE NOT MEANT TO BE POETIC. i'm just trying to get out of this... i need to feel alive.
i need to feel like i can be whole without talking to him every day
because the fact of the matter is...
he doesn't love me.
{he doesn't love me}
and i can't go on believing that he does. that breaks my heart. i can play out the conversation in my head like a worn out VHS that i've played more times for comfort than for entertainment. he'll say he does love me and that i shouldnt need proof. i'll reply for the millionth time that actions speak louder than words. i dont think i'm being a doubting thomas... he'll say i shouldn't need proof (again). i'll say that he's giving me politician answers again. i'll say that i'm sick of his monotonous, continuous copouts. "i love you, but.." and "if you really loved me, you wouldn't need proof".
i think that's ridiculous. now, correct me if i'm wrong... but i've done plenty to prove that i love him. anyone who knows me knows that. correct me if i'm wrong, but doesn't love mean that you accept someone, no matter how badly they hurt you? doesn't love mean that no matter how many times someone hurts you, you try to make them feel like you'll be there for them no matter what? no matter how many times you stay up til 3 am just waiting to know that they're alright? no matter how many times you stay up til 3 am just waiting for them to tell you that YOU are alright? i love the way the words roll so easily off of his tongue, into the telephone, transmitted through wires upon wires and finally meeting my receiver through my ear drum and finally to my brain.. "baby... don't cry... everything is going to be alright... i love you". at this point, i've heard those words they've almost lost their meaning. he's almost lost his meaning. but ... not... quite...
"our love was comfortable and so broken in..."
and that's the thing about comfort.... it's like an old chair... yes, it fits the curves of your body perfectly.. but the truth of the mattter is that the leather is worn out... the cushion is basically disintegrated.
am i holding on to this for sentimental value because it has no other value to speak of?
okay so there are two parts of myself. i have a selfish side and a nonselfish side. my selfish side wants to trade in that old piece of shit broken down leather chair for a new one, polished, streamlined... maybe with built in massage therapy? when i feel this side coming through, it's at my strong point. and i don't know why i call it my selfish side.. maybe it's just the side that gets the point.
my weak side has that old philosophy, "stand by your man". i almost feel like he's a family heirloom. and i don't know my living room without him in it. at this point, i almost feel bad getting rid of him... he's like that comfortable pair of jeans that basically have no whole pieces of fabric left...this is the point where i wonder if something so beaten down and worn out can survive any further turmoil without SOME type of positive reinforcement.
ACTION, for instance.
well... enough rambling for now. i guess if you actually read this, you were bored or you have some sick obsession with this dilemma i wish with all of my heart that i didnt have anymore.
<3
i need to feel like i can be whole without talking to him every day
because the fact of the matter is...
he doesn't love me.
{he doesn't love me}
and i can't go on believing that he does. that breaks my heart. i can play out the conversation in my head like a worn out VHS that i've played more times for comfort than for entertainment. he'll say he does love me and that i shouldnt need proof. i'll reply for the millionth time that actions speak louder than words. i dont think i'm being a doubting thomas... he'll say i shouldn't need proof (again). i'll say that he's giving me politician answers again. i'll say that i'm sick of his monotonous, continuous copouts. "i love you, but.." and "if you really loved me, you wouldn't need proof".
i think that's ridiculous. now, correct me if i'm wrong... but i've done plenty to prove that i love him. anyone who knows me knows that. correct me if i'm wrong, but doesn't love mean that you accept someone, no matter how badly they hurt you? doesn't love mean that no matter how many times someone hurts you, you try to make them feel like you'll be there for them no matter what? no matter how many times you stay up til 3 am just waiting to know that they're alright? no matter how many times you stay up til 3 am just waiting for them to tell you that YOU are alright? i love the way the words roll so easily off of his tongue, into the telephone, transmitted through wires upon wires and finally meeting my receiver through my ear drum and finally to my brain.. "baby... don't cry... everything is going to be alright... i love you". at this point, i've heard those words they've almost lost their meaning. he's almost lost his meaning. but ... not... quite...
"our love was comfortable and so broken in..."
and that's the thing about comfort.... it's like an old chair... yes, it fits the curves of your body perfectly.. but the truth of the mattter is that the leather is worn out... the cushion is basically disintegrated.
am i holding on to this for sentimental value because it has no other value to speak of?
okay so there are two parts of myself. i have a selfish side and a nonselfish side. my selfish side wants to trade in that old piece of shit broken down leather chair for a new one, polished, streamlined... maybe with built in massage therapy? when i feel this side coming through, it's at my strong point. and i don't know why i call it my selfish side.. maybe it's just the side that gets the point.
my weak side has that old philosophy, "stand by your man". i almost feel like he's a family heirloom. and i don't know my living room without him in it. at this point, i almost feel bad getting rid of him... he's like that comfortable pair of jeans that basically have no whole pieces of fabric left...this is the point where i wonder if something so beaten down and worn out can survive any further turmoil without SOME type of positive reinforcement.
ACTION, for instance.
well... enough rambling for now. i guess if you actually read this, you were bored or you have some sick obsession with this dilemma i wish with all of my heart that i didnt have anymore.
<3