Alex's Nirvana

Nirvana

He calls me up at midnight again, doesn't he get it? I'm done. I am done and it's over, I've reached my limits but I still spend my nights worrying about him from the second I lay down in my bed to the second I hear birds chirping and the sun comes out and my alarm for school rings.

Is this what love feels like? Caring about someone and worrying about them even when they have done everything in their power to push you away, even when you try and get away too? Never giving up and staying by their side even when they are not themselves and they are at their worst and have driven their minds into a brick wall right after turning as cold as a freezer because they have ripped their hearts out of their chest and tossed right out of the window and rolled over its remains seconds before they crashed and exploded into flames, creating an inextinguishable inferno.

I want nothing more than to pull his burning body out of the mess he's made, pull him out of the chaos and the wreckage and ruins. I want to grab whatever remnants I can find of the old him and forcibly inject it right back into him.

I am also aching to put my hand on his hollow chest, or perhaps rest my head against his flesh and bones that are covering and protecting his third worst enemy, the second and first being me and himself, his own mind is his number one arch nemesis. But I just want to lie there, if he will let me, and listen closely for his heartbeat. Maybe it's nonexistent and maybe it's not. Maybe he did throw it out and maybe he left a mere fragment of his never complete but at least once content heart. I want to listen and wait for it silently. I want to hear the sound of his heart; I want to hear that sweet and much needed sound of his heart beating, I want to know that I still have a chance, that he could maybe love me as much as I love him. I want to know that there is still hope for us.

He has turned into the joker. Due to extreme circumstances that he doesn't want to talk about, he has been forever marred. He is barely recognizable too; he can barely look himself in the mirror now. He's afraid, afraid that he might see something that will emotionally and mentally scar him and damage him even more so.

So he runs, he runs away from me, he runs away from everyone, but worst of all, he runs away from himself.

I just have to remember that people don't want to hear the truth because they don't want their illusions destroyed. I also have to keep in mind that madness is like gravity, all it takes is one push, and he is currently standing on the very edge, one single blow away from falling.

He's turning me into batman, into his arch nemesis when I want to be his Jeanie, the reason he fought for, the thing he risked his life and almost died for, the reason he went insane, the reason he hides behind his overbearing smile and foolish whimsy because he doesn't want anyone to see the pain that is killing him and eating him alive inside out.

But I'm not his Jeanie, I am batman. I am the 'hero' that made him the monster he currently is. He shouldn't have to apologize for the monster he has become; I just need to apologize for making him this way. Although, I can't take all the credit, I am not entirely held responsible for the destruction of jack and the birth of the joker.

You either become a hero or you live long enough to watch yourself slowly turn into a villain. I want to hurt him and finish him off once and for all without sinking down to his level, I can't do that unless I murder my heart and sell my soul over to the devil. I can't get the justice I so fairly deserve without joining the dark side and losing myself. I also can't save him without sinking down to his level of madness and insanity, I've been there before, I don't ever want to go back, but I would if he asked me to.

I need to chill, why so serious?