In all honesty, my heart is kinda broken tonight. I can’t even write. I want to tear up every word that spills from my fingers. Oh hell, I even hate my words tonight. I want to shred them, make THEM bleed for ME. Crush them, stomp them, punch them, kill every last fucking one. I want to slit the throats of my words tonight. Because they all betray me and leave me so bare, all my hurt showing. And I just want to bury that inside.
But my goddamn words won’t let me, angry little shits that they are. All they want to do is tell on me. That I’m in pain, that I’m angry. That I’m bitter and worthless and stupid and just fucking unlovable. That I hate and crave. That I want to die and live and fly and fall and lay beside you and just be… That my heart is jealous of what I’ll never have. Fuck, I’d cut off my fingers if that would make them stop!
I shouldn’t post this. I know I sound crazy. Well, fuck it. I am.
I know I’ll recover. A little more wary, a little more weary. And probably with all fingers intact. Maybe. But tonight, yes, I do want to scream, and sob, and dig my nails into anything and everything. I want to punch and stab and … Who am I kidding… I’ll get drunk and play video games, crying, till I fall asleep. That seems to be my fallback position.
I’ll try to drown out my words tonight. Tonight, they hate me, and I hate them back.
What I want to say, and fear
What I hide inside of me
What hurts me so damn much
What is running down my face
What I do –
Fire, Brimstone, Hell.
I wish I could take you
Deep inside my mind
Point out all the cracks and flaws
The scars I cannot leave behind
I can’t say that I’m sorry
I’m sorry, but I can’t
I must think of myself now
My own freedom I grant
I wish you could have known me
I so wanted to know you
But I know I’m too broken
You can’t bear that too.
So I’ll pack the pieces I’ve let break
It’s a lonely road I must take
For love right now just can’t be.
I’m too much for you, you’re too much for me.
I haven’t been making good choices where my heart is concerned. Sure, love and sex make for great poetry. The more complicated the relationship, the feelings, the better it sounds in rhyme. And when the pain hits, as it always will, there is nothing sweeter than writing it out. Oh, how we love to read that, amirite? But maybe I should stick with old memories of hurts, instead of making new ones.
Of course I can’t go into details about anything, because … well, I just can’t. But suffice to say I’m sick of the back and forth. I’m not blaming anyone but myself for the emotions I’m feeling. I know I am far too sensitive. I call myself weak constantly. Because of my anxiety issues, chiefly, but also when it comes to love. I love love. I love loving someone, giving to them what I have, what I can. And so I invest myself too quickly and too deeply, even when my head is screaming at me to stop. How often are any of us capable of listening to our heads when our hearts have already made up their mind?
This is one of the reasons I withdrew myself years ago. I couldn’t take the pain I inflicted upon myself with loving others. I don’t want to do that again, withdraw. But I have to be smarter. Cuz I am killing myself with this bullshit.