(no subject)
Love....
Can't you understand how useless that concept is? Does anyone else see how dangerous it is to open yourself up too much to one single person; to let them see you as no one else does; to expose everything you are, in your soul, your thoughts. Being so vulnerable is extremely precarious.
What happens to your insides if you get split open? You're susceptible to infection, disease, something that can slowly eat away at you until you're nothing left but a screaming pile of filth just begging to die. This concept of love acts in that very same way, but love is actually a clever disease. Like too much alcohol; it will make you think you're happy for a short while. It's so nice at first, isn't it? You can let go of your worries and plaster a smile on your face, and you think everything is ok. You want more of that feeling, so you reach for more. And more. And more, until you overdo it, and you're wretching into the porcelain. Oh, it's just one bad experience. It'll be better next time, right?
But you keep going back for more, because for those few moments, you think you're happy. Over and over again, the cycle turns over and over and over, making you dizzy; and you're sick again. You swear it off, never again! But your friends are happy. You watch them be happy with that same drug and you start to get jealous. You want their happiness, too, so you reach for it again. I'll try a different approach, you say. But it ends up the same, you're sick at the end of the day. Again.
This vicious cycle just keeps spinning you in circles, back to square one, over and over. All the while, you're dancing in filtered moments of illusioned happiness, this poison is rotting your insides. Your precious filter, which was once so healthy, so smart to know what was good and what was bad; how much love was enough... it's dying, and it can no longer keep you safe.
And it's your fault. You did this to yourself. That numbness spreading out and consuming every bit of you that felt warm and happy, becomes cold, hard, as your outer shell forms, as you put that wall up between yourself and the thought of love that was destroying you.
You don't want it. You don't want to feel it anymore. Never again.
A friend suggests a distraction, something to take your mind off of the poison you crave so badly. It's a good idea, and you dive head-first into another addiction. Maybe this time it's more of a hobby, but you're able to stop thinking about that poison for a little while. What could this hobby be? Something small at first, sure, completely harmless. But slowly you start to think about that poison, and you want it so badly.
So your hobby turns into an obsession, seclusion, and you no longer remember what it was like to be happy, to love. Everything around you keeps turning, you see little reminders here and there about your old poison. Those reminders of love... a hug, a cuddle, sitting close enough that they're touching.... and even that becomes unbearable.
Your subconscious turns these reminders into revulsion. Take away anything that reminds us of what that poison felt like, even simple things that most people wouldn't understand the connection. It's just a hug.
Please... please, don't touch me. I've become an infection, and I don't want to get it on you, too. It's just a pat on the shoulder. But now it burns. My own infection, my own noxious poison is starting to burn. I have to be careful so I don't get it on anyone. I don't want anyone else to get infected. I'm not worth the risk.
Just open up a little.
Open up? Just open up? That's how you start to rot! I can't just open up!
No. No, I need my wall to be stronger, impenetrable. I need to bury that concept of love away in a box, and lock it. It needs to stay in that box and putrefy all on its own. Because it's dangerous. It will kill me if I let it out. My armor needs to be solid. Nothing can get through. I can't allow it. I'll bury the key so deep within myself it will never be found.
In the meantime, I'll put up a camouflage around the wall, made of laughs and smiles and music and bad puns and cheesy pick up lines and blueberries and oh we need to go see that movie!
...Anything to be a distraction. Anything to drown out the sound of the venomous poison that sits in the box, buried within the wall; it's festering chewing its own skin and breaking its own bones to try to feel something, anything but the numbing, lonely darkness. The sounds of fractures are noticeable sometimes... so I'll make a bad joke and laugh louder.
I'll put on my butterfly wings and pretend to be happy, for their sake. I refuse to be the ruin of everyone else's smile.
This is the chaos that I try to keep from the world, the spiders I try to keep inside, thrashing about with their blade-like limbs, shredding me beneath the surface. They want to get out. But I won't let them. Because they're filled with poison.
To protect everyone else, I must isolate myself.
But I'll live.