break stuff
know what sucks? being essentially in a love triangle. being in love with someone you've been with and realizing just how far down the rabbit hole they are, how much help they need, and how little you want to give it anymore. knowing there's someone else, someone whose thoughts and ideas, whose very essence is so compatible with mine i want to run to him every time i see him. i want to spend an eternity just next to him. i feel things i've never felt before, experiences i thought i'd never have with anyone let alone a man. for fuck's sake, i didn't think i could share as many parts of myself with one person, had accepted the fact that i wouldn't ever find a way to make all the paradoxes that make up myself make sense to someone else. i promised myself a year. i would spend a year to try and bring him out of the darkness, put him on his own feet, try to get him to see what others can. but it's one month in and all i want to do is drink, and cry, and wish i lived alone. i had a moment of perfect beauty, of a blossom finally opening, of so many things being potentially right, before it was all trampled on and thrown in the trash, called a betrayer, told to stop talking to him, told to stop looking at him because i never look at him that way any more. yeah, fucktard. like i've been saying for years-if you hate yourself, how the fuck do you expect someone else to find that attractive? you fell in love with me when i was in the darkest, deepest part of my life, the year i can't remember. you remember it all perfectly, consider it our perfect moment together. what i do remember? is me being almost a doll. lifeless, limp, dancing to whatever tune seemed safest. how can that be good? how can that be what you want? do you even realize what you've said to me? you throw words like slinging mud, or salt in a shotgun. wide shots, rarely hitting, vindictive no matter what. you hate so much of what i am, have so much negativity and sarcasm to hide the crying child within. why am i responsible for that? why am i the one who gets to play lover/mother/therapist/maid? how is that fair? do you even realize what you're asking? the stress you've put me through? yes, you thank me. but only with what i don't want. only without words, only with the physicality that feels like worship, but the kind of a desparate and dying man. there are so few shining moments of clarity, of you and me speaking the same language. i know i'm harsh, i know i can be cruel, and i know i can be verbally abusive. but what do you expect after years of no replies, of non-committal answers, of getting no fucking help anywhere but the fucking bedroom? and then you give me a chance, you casually say 'sure, we can do this' only to rip it away from me again. yes, i understand now he would never have gone for it either. the point is that you are the one who can't handle it, not me. your ego can't allow me to have an id. i can't open up to you, and i never could. so many things are clear now. so many things make sense. we don't speak the same language. we can't. you want the things i rarely do, and so it is in reverse. you don't even drink tea! you make fun of yoga, you make fun of my religion, you want me to show more cleavage, but only around the house because then no one can see it but you, you make fun of my food preferences...how the hell is this supposed to be a good thing? how the hell is this supposed to become coexistance? i think we're too broken now to fix. i think i'd like some time to be alone, to truly live with myself and not for someone else. i think it's time i get to decorate the living room however i fucking please, go to sleep at 10 pm if i want and wake up without having to wake up someone else. to make smoothies, and eat kale, and mushrooms, to sing whenever i feel like it. i'm beating my wings against this cage so hard i might break them. if i can get out because of that, it's worth it.