Fallen petals

Toxic love

Right now I'm not capable of doing anything else, so I guess Ill just try to write this letter. I apologize in advance for everything I will say, but I also want to clarify that it must be true. Now I'm speaking with my heart in the tips of my fingers, now I'm completely wrecked.

I don't understand a lot of things. I don't understand why we hurt each other so much. I don't understand why I do it and neither why you react the way you do. I love you and I will ever love you, I feel incapable of living without you but at the same time, lately I've felt incapable of living. I feel drained and empty, and no, you can't make me feel whole and alive again.

I love you and that's why it hurts so much, that's the only reason why I try day by day to be better. But I can't, not anymore.

I told you, you're right. Im a fucking piece of shit who doesn't deserve to live. So, why are you torturing me and saying you'll help me? Why do you tell me such bad things and give me hopes again? 

I hurt you so much all the time, I know that, I've done it for so long and feel like the devil for doing so, because never in my whole life I've done that on purpose. And that's the problem, the times when you hurt me the most, you do it consciously, you want me to feel the pain, you want to see my expression while I feel I'm dying inside.

Our love is not sane, pure, it's a nightmare. It's toxic, it really is. We are an amazing couple at the eyes of everyone else and I think most of the time we think we are great, really great together. But, are we?

Our personalities

Maybe that's it, maybe that's the only reason why we can't just function together sometimes. That huge reason that we don't match but keep forcing the situation again and again, over and over.

And I fucking love you so much.

I wonder if I really know what is love. At least you are the only one who has made me feel like in the movies, and also completely vulnerable, and dependent, and happy, and sad, and empty, and full of shit, and clueless, and expendable.

You told me you didn't want to be expendable. I understand that better than you can possibly imagine.

Of but hell, I love you so much. And that won't change, I know it for sure, I won't stop loving you until my heart stops beating. So then, please tell me, why on earth are we such a bad couple? Why can't I treat you right without any effort? Why do you look so satisfied when I cry?

You're working

But are incapable of doing it right. I'm here, sitting, knowing I'll be here for at least five more hours, and probably won't do anything useful. I wanted to come here to be with you, even in my day off, and now that you don't want to be with me, what am I supposed to do?

I want to write but I feel so fucking empty. I feel so stepped on. I can't un-hear the words that you said, because sometimes I think you only say the truth when you're mad, and it hurts so much, so fucking much.

And I want somebody to talk to, but you're the only one. I'm only writing this letter because I can't do anything else. You need time to calm down, and you're probably alright by now, but me? This is the worst part.

You know what thinking does to me, what horrible thoughts my mind can elaborate.

And the machine's starting to run. Fast, terrible, mortal.

Mortal.

I know I like to be dramatic and I hope I was exaggerating by now, but no. Oh you, you make me feel so like a fucking piece of crap. I make me want to kill myself. You make me want to stop existing. You make me even wonder if my love for you was a lie. You make me wonder if your love for me was a lie. You even make me wonder if marrying was an error.

I don't like to think about that, I don't like to even contemplate the fact that I've ruined your life and you've ruined mine.

You make me want to run away. You make me want to see the blood coming out of my veins. You make me want to be in an asylum, crazy.

Like the fucking hysterical bitch you always tell me I am.

And I would love to cause a scene here but I still have a minimum of sanity and I still love you, at least in my own weird way.

Oh, but you.

You don't make any sense. What the hell are you?

I can tell you for a fact that I'm really mad, because I couldn't write in the whole week and now it's your fault I won't do it now, when I finally have time.

I hate you. I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU.

And then, I love you, in small caps, because that's all I'm capable to do right now.