“I’m here for you”

No, you’re not.

And I understand that you’re not lying. You don’t actually know that you can’t be here for me. You don’t know what it involves, so you’re not even aware of the monstrosity that you’re promising me right now.

Even if you knew, I could never allow you to be here for me. Because I would say things like, “I want to be dead now,” in all seriousness, and there would be absolutely nothing that you could say to me to make me feel better or want any differently, despite your best efforts.

You would feel helpless. And I would feel worse because it would only justify my feelings of hopelessness.

Advertisements

Pushing you away

because it hurts like you can’t understand.

But you shouldn’t ever have to try.


They just watched me break

“There was always something so fragile yet impenetrable about you…”

Everybody always knew, or the very least, suspected that something wasn’t right.

Nobody ever did a thing about it to help. They just watched me break.

 

And now that my wings are broken, I’m still expected to fly.


tschhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Hello?
No.
Hello.
I said no.

And then the silence.
And then the fighting alone, so suddenly.

Hello?
tschhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

There’s no wisdom in static.

Please, come back.
tschhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

 

 


“Because you finally understand the movement of a hand waving you goodbye.”

I’m so terrified of being alone when I’m alone
And then I’m so terrified of being loved when I’m loved.
I’m always needing exactly what isn’t,
Scared of what I do have and scared of what I don’t have precisely the same amount.

Sometimes I panic that I’m never going to find the connections that I feel I need to have with people in my life. And I’m human so I do need them. It’s not that no one is around because they are. It’s not that there isn’t opportunity to connect with them because there is.

It’s that I don’t.

And that’s not because I don’t want to because I do. It’s because I’m scared; scared of the connection within the connecting.

So, people do
but I don’t,
and so the process is like watching sand slip through my fingertips over and over again.

I have it…
I had it…
It’s gone.

Then scared of the loneliness within the aloneness, it repeats like a song stuck on replay.