(no subject)
Things between Andy and I are turning bitter. I trust him very little now, and I realize that I have never really trusted him very much; I am constantly waiting for that big hurt, for that hurt to end them all, the one that will finish me. It does not come of its own volition so I make up little ones along the way. I suppose that these hurts will grow or that they will lead me to their larger friend. I no longer feel the specific hurts, only a small throbbing, which pulls at my skin. To an extent they have taken Andy's place. My hurt and I talk all the time. We speak long into the nights; we fall asleep together and begin talking again in the morning sun, our faces pressed close together. I make the sounds in my head, the sounds of voices. Andy and I only communicate through yips and anger and sex. Occasionally, we cry together like drunkards, embracing at the end of the night, unsure of where we stand or where to go from here. Last night his tears smelled of azaleas. For an instant I began to love him again, but the love turned into something terrible and ugly inside of me. Something like a jealousy. My body has forgotten love and I fear that so has my heart. I wish to die. I do not remember what has urged me to live, what semblance of desire. I wish to disappear, to be forgotten. I try to remember other loves, friends, certain slants of light. I feel too alone. There is no star to act as a ladder, no staircase of braided hands. No shaft of light can reach me, I am buried. These sounds in my head make me a stranger. I do not want to be so lost. I want Andy to find me again, I want us to love like we once loved. I do not know that it is possible. We travel like strangers, like ghosts, revolving around eachother, stuck in the circles. But after so long the orbit has begun to degenerate; we travel in slightly larger circles, form slightly weaker bonds. Every untruth, every slight falsity absolutely ruins me. I wish to die, I wish to die.
The only sounds I make stay inside of me. My mouth is silent; I am cosntantly hungry for what lies beyond it, but do not wish to reach for it. I want to be better but do not want to leave what Andy and I have worked at. I am hungry for happiness but happiness eludes me, the world eludes me. This is how I will die, hungering and unsure. I cannot remember what it was that kept me full, kept me jolly. Perhaps I do not want to remember. I am tired of hope, it gets me no where. I feel that I am constantly shattered.
I am sure that I could make myself live without him, but I do not want to. If we do not belong to one another, where do we belong?