I'm back. I relapsed. I promise it wasn't you. I promise I'm happy. I promise I'm sure. I'm sorry that I said yes. I'm sorry that I said no. I'm sorry that I'm sorry. I don't know how not to be sorry when nobody listens to the screaming in the wrong. In the failure. Screaming and crying silently in the living room. Sinking into the couch. I've felt this before. It's back. The disappointment. The bloodshed. The mutilation. I did it once. But isn't once all it takes? All it takes is one action to break trust. All it takes is one. But you never trusted me. I never trusted myself. I think of myself often. I think of you often. I think of us. I think of how I said yes. I think of how I could have gone. My bones are hollow yet so heavy. I can't seem to move myself. To speak. I don't know how to tell you I hurt when you hurt. I don't know how to comfort you when I can't comfort myself. I keep looking in the mirror, staring into my eyes. Looking for change. Hoping for change. You look into my eyes and see me. I look into my eyes and see that I've voided myself. Rejected myself. And all you can see is love. I am a dying fern wilting for water and you are the most beautiful saltwater ocean I've ever seen. Still parched I sip at your waters, the saltiness does not compare to your compassion. Your compassion does not compare to your patience. Your patience does not compare to your beauty. I am hypnotized by your song, a gracefully sung siren. Spitting silken daggers from your mouth, my wounds bleed but yet I can't tell they're there. I think I have my own thoughts but then compare them to yours. I try to sing your songs and come up short of breath and mindless. I cannot help myself for your words keep me afloat yet sink me farther. It's hard to see the beckoning light at the end of the tunnel when your light shines the same on my greyest of days. Yet my light compares to the smallest flame on a match in your darkness. It's going out too soon. Much like time, I'm spread too thin. I keep circling the same possibilities and yet I don't recognize the path. It's familiar yet strangely macabre. I've been here before, but I still don't know how to breathe. The dullness in my brain is droning. Draining. Debilitating. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't live. It's hard to be by myself. It's hard to see myself. It's hard to be myself. Who am I? Am I someone who makes you happy? Someone who frustrates you? Am I someone I could love? Am I worthy of your words, your melodies, your glances in the bedroom. Do I caress you right? Do I speak to you in a manner that you grow from? Can I grow? I want to blossom and bloom how you do but I'm not an intricate vine of dangling flowers and mossy leaves. I'm not one to stop and think how you do. I rush my way through life to get it over with. I'm loud to avoid the noise. I'm quiet to hear it. I'm apologetic in the worst ways because nobody wanted me when I wasn't. I don't understand words of love when they were just so recently spoken. My brain repeats things like a pattern made of blades. Your words sharp and precise. Your words soft and gentle. My words never conceived. My words never spoken. You'll never see this, just like I'll never see myself. When you look at me, who are you looking at? A lover, a serial apologist, a child. I'm an adult but when am I allowed to mature? I'm old enough, but too young. How do I care for myself? How can I care for you? You ask me to speak, but on what? You ask me to watch, but where? "Are you okay?" Yes. "Are you okay?" Yes. "Are you okay?" No. I can't be. I can't be okay when I want you to be. I am one or the other. I am both. Both body and mind askew. Never matching to the same rhythm of energy that was bestowed upon me at birth. I wish to be whole. I wish to be cradled. I wish to cradle. How I crave your happiness. How I crave your desires. Oh how I crave for you to be whole. I want to be what you want to be. I want to be who you want me to be. I'll change everything. I have changed. I'm sorry you don't like the person I made myself to be for you. I'll get rid of them as soon as I can. The person I am is a tumor that takes precision and time to remove and remake. I mould myself of stick and stone. But I break so easily in your grasp. I've never met someone who could build up my walls yet take them down just as effortlessly. My brick is made of soft mosses and valleys. You flood them with all that you are. I am trying to be for you. I'm trying to be who you say I am. Who I should be. Compassionate, selfless, beautiful, thoughtless. I serve you, so I don't have to serve myself. My brain never stops, it's hard to sleep. It's hard to eat. Its hard to be myself. It's back.
