I Almost Told You To Make A Wish

I notice a lot of the posts I make here are posted while I'm crying. I wonder why that is. I guess hearing myself talk calms me down.

I won't let you close enough to hurt me,
I can't ask you you to just desert me.

There's a feeling inbetween anticipation and hurt, sharp pain and intrusive deconstruction, that takes place in my mind and my chest, aching and pulling at all of my nerve endings with long claws. I can't put my finger on any of this. It's knowing that no one wants anything to do with me and being able to do nothing about it. I exist. I can't help that, because I'm scared to. And because I exist as a human being, I posess the desire to connect and love and be loved, and I'm so sorry that it's such a goddamn inconvenience to you. If I could change this, I would. If I could be content alone with my arms around myself and my face against my pillow, I would forever. I'd let you be.

But part of me is better with you. Cut out, cleaned, and put back in - and that part of me won't let this go. It's stupid. It's fucking stupid. How do you get over knowing that you haven't made a meaningful connection in years? There are no easy ways out. There are no easy ways over you. I just need to suck it up and quit turning tables.

It's so frustrating, okay? It's me beating my fists on a wall, knowing you're on the other side and can't hear. It's digging my nails in until it hurts and breaks off at the cuticles without leaving a scratch. Maybe you'll come back. Maybe you'll wait for me to. But I won't this time, and I promise. This was your fault, and you can't change that or fix it if you don't come back. And if you let your pride get in the way of this, I promise you're not worth it. And I'll live with that.

okay good night.