little thoughts

Never let me go

He took it all, he took everything I had told him so far and dropped it into my lap like a wet rag stained with all that I had done. I felt foolish and naked, and then I had no idea how to feel or react. This was my second ultimatum this week. I want to cry out. I want to scream, I want to shatter anything within my grasp that may shatter the way I felt shattered. The illusion is over but the reality isn't any brighter than it should be.

I was hiding behind masks; behind sweaty backs and rampant moments, behind seduction and smiles. I don't feel like I can put back up those walls. I've been figured out cause I open my mouth and I let it all spill out. I got comfortable and it feels like I got burned but I know it's not a burn to hurt kinda burn or a sting like the whip lash of rejection; it's not even a scorch of truth. It feels like I'm on an open pit fire and my lungs are on fire. My throat is getting drier by the minute, with every breath I take in it burns with unshed tears.

It feels like I've been pealed apart like a well ripe banana and my skins are about me, but it's my choice to put them back on. Looking at them now I see that they are decaying and rotten and would make even the best banana look spoilt, even with all the potassium being richer than any banana you've ever had. It's my shame, my curse, my illusion. Saddest part is I don't feel like I'm gonna leave those skins behind. Those skins have made me stronger, made me wiser, made me happy when nothing else has. They've given me warmth and friends and people I can trust.

When I had no skins I suffered of the worst curse ever, loneliness and naivety. It doesn't seem so long ago that I had experience my first real break up; the one that set a whole in my being so large that I used everything in my power to fill it up. I took a break, I took a partner hoping to find a cure, I looked to higher understanding and nothing seemed to be getting better. If anything things got worst. Prayers seemed futile like hope and the only thing that got me by were the moments of drunkenness.

The suffering stages started and no one was explaining what I was supposed to be doing. No one told me that going on my own would lead to such wreckage. No one told me that shame is stronger than loneliness. Had I only waited.... Had I not lashed out.... Had I just thought things through! And I can't now. My life feels like my very own headache of a soap opera. I'm the protagonist looking for closure and dwelling, looking for my niche. That voice at the back of my head is whispering venomously that a roll in the hay with T will make me forget. A moment of abandon with R will put me to bed. A night out with the glass would sooth my sorrows for a time and a knife to my throat would just make it all go away. No more ... just a little bit more.

I'm going mad. I'm a mental invalid because I've relied on the waves so much that now I don't know how to swim. And the reality of it is drown and settle or stay floating and fight.

He gave me an ultimatum

I'd be damned if I didn't just understand why I have to love him or hate him. Wouldn't a blade just be easier? Let the inner madness take over and get drunk on the numbness. I've never been numb, no one ever let me. I always have to be alert and ready cause this is real life not a Sims social game. I seemed to have internally skipped the steps between crawling and leaping to save my life and I'm doing it badly and embarrassing myself. And all I want to do is get away from the blasted ugly rafts that support and keep me above water by their determination to not see me sink.

Am I already sinking?

Can't see anyone else coming, trying to pull me out or I'm ignoring the ones who try. Like J. he tried hard, put himself on the line and got run over. I'm hoping, for the first time in a very long while, I'm feeling sure hope, but not for myself. I'm hoping that everyone else wakes up and sees that I'm floating away and I want to cry but it's of no use. I want everyone to see my shame and not hold me guiltless. I've stained myself, created in myself monsters that I don't want to leave me alone again.

Most importantly I want everyone to see that I'm not ok, that no matter how much I smile and joke, on the inside the little things hurt the most and that I'm burning in this person that is a shell, a hard shell to who is hiding behind it all under the 17 foot fence, after the death run over 16 pools of deadly sea creatures and the 8 fences of barbed wire that electrify. And after all those traps and more, she's at the centre of her heavily guarded mask huddled and confused. She'd rather suffocate than come out only to face this entire heart ache of a world where the only reality exists under a bruised thumb of dictator ship.

So help me I have gone completely insane.