I wanted you
this is something that i had found on a disk a few days ago, and i have debated on whether or not i should put this up. i thought about it and thought about and i decided that "what the hell i only know like a handfull of you people out there so i dont care who reads this.
this is in reguards to that person that i never got over and how they made me feel once i realized that WE were over.i got through it of course but in the burning hours of uncertainty this is what was found.
.....
I wanted you
I have always held this deep inner belief that the point of life -- the thing that made it worth my while -- was love. Love between myself and humanity, between myself and nature, between myself and someone so special that I would do anything for them...walk through hell...be in hell...stay in hell just to be with them.
What you forget is that I wanted you. What you never stopped to see was that I am standing in hell right now, burning alive in my supposed-to-be-happiness just waiting for you to look and see that I've come here for YOU. That if you were to hold me and tell me you loved me, I could face anything, anywhere, at any time. IF you could only see the way I love you, "maybe you would understand, why I feel this way about our love, and what I must do." What must I do? Do I have to be rich? Do I have to be famous? Do I have to be the capitalistic giant that I externally admire for his cunning, his skill, and his ability to destroy lives, but internally hate? Do I have to bring you everything that glitters? Will it all be gold? Everyone keeps telling me, "People change." People do change. Everything changes. For some reason, everything changes and moves away from me. Why does all change mean displacement? What did I do to hurt you? Ever? Kisses, naps and words, handholds and special looks. They haunt me. I remember everything. Every detail, down to the placement of the socks on your floor, the scent of product in your hair, the feel of each strand as it ran past my fingers, and the look in your eyes when you told me you liked me. Why was that the same look when you told me you didn't? Was I too close for comfort? Were you afraid I was going to run away? I would never have run away. I would have ruined my life for you, and in so doing saved my soul. There is nothing I can do to forget you. Ever since that all love I've touched has curled and turned away. I am the black rose, dark and uncut from the vine; just the same structure as all other roses, only dark. Only alone. One day you will achieve your dreams...but everywhere you go you have a piece of me. The only piece I ever wanted to give away. Now I want it back. You can't have my dream-piece...my hope-piece...my life-piece...unless you are going to share it with me.
Why can't you come save me, as I once saved you? Not good enough. Not enough. Not good. Not. I wish I were not. Not anything. Not a thought, not a memory, not a love, not a burden, not a breath, not a human, not a heart, not a home, not a life, not alive. Wait -- I am already not to you. So what does it matter?
May you have mercy on my soul, since you've already condemned me to burn.
this is in reguards to that person that i never got over and how they made me feel once i realized that WE were over.i got through it of course but in the burning hours of uncertainty this is what was found.
.....
I wanted you
I have always held this deep inner belief that the point of life -- the thing that made it worth my while -- was love. Love between myself and humanity, between myself and nature, between myself and someone so special that I would do anything for them...walk through hell...be in hell...stay in hell just to be with them.
What you forget is that I wanted you. What you never stopped to see was that I am standing in hell right now, burning alive in my supposed-to-be-happiness just waiting for you to look and see that I've come here for YOU. That if you were to hold me and tell me you loved me, I could face anything, anywhere, at any time. IF you could only see the way I love you, "maybe you would understand, why I feel this way about our love, and what I must do." What must I do? Do I have to be rich? Do I have to be famous? Do I have to be the capitalistic giant that I externally admire for his cunning, his skill, and his ability to destroy lives, but internally hate? Do I have to bring you everything that glitters? Will it all be gold? Everyone keeps telling me, "People change." People do change. Everything changes. For some reason, everything changes and moves away from me. Why does all change mean displacement? What did I do to hurt you? Ever? Kisses, naps and words, handholds and special looks. They haunt me. I remember everything. Every detail, down to the placement of the socks on your floor, the scent of product in your hair, the feel of each strand as it ran past my fingers, and the look in your eyes when you told me you liked me. Why was that the same look when you told me you didn't? Was I too close for comfort? Were you afraid I was going to run away? I would never have run away. I would have ruined my life for you, and in so doing saved my soul. There is nothing I can do to forget you. Ever since that all love I've touched has curled and turned away. I am the black rose, dark and uncut from the vine; just the same structure as all other roses, only dark. Only alone. One day you will achieve your dreams...but everywhere you go you have a piece of me. The only piece I ever wanted to give away. Now I want it back. You can't have my dream-piece...my hope-piece...my life-piece...unless you are going to share it with me.
Why can't you come save me, as I once saved you? Not good enough. Not enough. Not good. Not. I wish I were not. Not anything. Not a thought, not a memory, not a love, not a burden, not a breath, not a human, not a heart, not a home, not a life, not alive. Wait -- I am already not to you. So what does it matter?
May you have mercy on my soul, since you've already condemned me to burn.