As I am suddenly faced with actual solutions to the forever loneliness that has hovered like a diseased cloud over my whole life, I see with exactitude the crack in the damn from which point all trouble has inevitably sprung. From fear my trouble seems born, a quiet limb with perfect aim that bends and tethers me. I close my eyes in the stillness to hear it’s movements. Press my ear upon the silence to make sense of its this and thatness, but get no clearer picture. I remain vigilant but to what ends I cannot be sure. It’s all shadows here. No sounds from the cracks. Nothing but a murmur of terror at notions I don’t fully comprehend.
I went to the grocery store and walked around looking at stuff. Reading labels for no apparent reason. It was alright. I thought about you while I was doing it, and you know, I couldn’t put anything in my basket. I couldn’t decide on anything. I got scared about it all. Suddenly the idea of standing in that check out line with all of this stuff to buy for myself and to take home for myself and eat by myself was just too much to even breathe through. I just stood in the isles and watched people for a while. I wondered who they were buying all the food in their carts for, and then I wondered if anyone else in the whole damn place was as concerned about the loneliness of these things as I was. I doubted it sincerely. There’s a reaction that my mind seems to invite from people who surround me, and I’ve become acutely aware of it in recent months. People view my thoughts and feelings as extreme. They consider the expression of them overwhelming… I have no idea what to do about this, and it’s probably why I’m standing in this grocery store thinking about you and feeling so goddamn isolated from everyone. Am I meant to lie about my life and what goes on between my ribcage and spine? Am I meant to hold those things in? The concept that I should makes my eyes mist over, and yet my inability to swallow the truth that churns within me seems to be the very thing that is causing me to have to write this way to begin with.
What a terrible thing to be putting myself through, I think to myself.
I write because I’m lonely, and then am lonely because I write, and what I write is just too damn much for anyone to actually live with. I am told by those closest to me that I must hide myself if I should ever want to not be sad in this way, and yet some part of me knows that in the end, when faced with the choice between a false partnership and the truisms of my own expression I’m going to pick me. Despite myself, and everything, I am going to pick me, and stand in this grocery store staring at people like I was the only person in history who ever wondered what would come of her effusive language and open legs.
Should have listened to the words coming out your mouth. You said things fall apart my dear. Like you’d nothing left to dream about. #tbt | looks the same | tastes the same
I don’t think I knew before this moment why nothing ever worked out. Why with all my most concentrated efforts I could not get love to concede to me… The truth is I think it’s because everything has been leading up to this one moment where my life would become so much bigger than I could have dreamed it would be… And no one, not even you, could have held onto me as I passed through that fire. No one could have stayed. I had to walk through this alone. If I’m lucky when I get to the other side you’ll be there waiting for me, but I won’t need you then, and love won’t have to concede to me, because it will be something that comes out my mouth when I breathe heavy at the sight of you. There just because you are. If I’m lucky you’ll breathe it too.
Maybe you wake up and you suddenly think, wait, why are you allowed to treat me like that? You wake up and you think, fuck you. And you have no idea where this anger came from but it’s suddenly so damn obvious that you’ve been in love with someone whose idea of being…
What I say to myself in the mirror sometimes…
I have to say goodbye here. Writing that out feels so terrifying. My eyes well up from just putting it on paper. As silly as it seems, they do. You see, over the last little while I had come to some solid gut feeling that though the space between now and then was still big, the “then” would include the rest of my life somehow. I didn’t feel any doubt about that. I looked at this person, and I was just certain that regardless of circumstance he would be there, wrapped around me to keep me safe. I was sure he knew it too. He said he did even, and so I continued to build that dream.
I forgave a good many things because of that, and maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe if I hadn’t things would be different than they are now. I ignored the general morbidity that had fallen as grey dust over the whole thing, writing it off as something to stand by and be patient for. Writing it off as a phase. A moment to overcome. But the dust had begun to choke me alive. My lungs became all full of it. And the disregard for that fact has brought me to this moment. A hacking mess, all crumbling on the floor. I cried there, as I had not in many years. I asked for help from on high, which I had not done in even more of them. And the futile and sorry state I saw myself in was one I had sworn to never come to again. It is one filled with doubt, and grief for the loss of the dream that seemed real enough to live in. It wasn’t. And I fell through that cloud to this place I am now. All misty eyed and shivering. Not sure exactly how things can fall apart like that. Not sure how people put things back together. Or if I can be.
I no longer know what truth there is in dreams, or if I can make one again. I’m afraid to try and stand in those things. Afraid I’ll fall through and find myself crumbling. That I’ll find myself without him still. It’s terrifying just to write down. And that fear feels just as solid as the dream did.
Little circle by @jaredeugene #new
You think you’ve got me.
You twist and you spin and think you’ve got me.
But little do you know I’m keeping score while you’re watching the grass grow.
You twist and you spin and you think you’ve got me.
But no one does.
No one ever has.
I’m busy keeping score.
I’m busy watching it all go down.
I smell sex and candy yeeeah by @williamgalindo
There are few things in this life that are as clear to me as this… That whatever I lack in selfishness I make up for in short sightedness. I’m selfish because I want you for only me. And I’m short sighted because with everything else that goes on in the world, in my city, in my life, you’re still all I can see sometimes.
It never made all that much sense. My intentions were right where they should have been. But my sight was a little short I guess, cause you were all I could see sometimes.