I’m frustrated that my heart seems to jump spaces like it’s the new fad races meant to catch up caught up move up my heart as I consider the places you are moving between transfixed by the glistening appealing of my own sex in front of you. I am frustrate that my heart jumps from one jealousy to another, all spawned by the reality fear of losing and also not getting what my heart desires, actually anger happenstance graces the entrance of my thoughts as I consider you, and it frustrates me because I never wanted to be this, still don’t want to see this, don’t want to look at my friend and then see your comment then be frustrated and feel feels deep down all the way to seals just because you said she is pretty and never say that about me and I know, I know it’s because you know. You know it wouldn’t be safe, it wouldn’t be able, it wouldn’t work and it makes me so angry, like I’m boiling right now like a cauldron over a fire ten thousand miles hight, sparks blazing, burning out into the night, no end of fuel in sight, licking at the air like it's an endless drug meant to sustain me, blocking out the growing trees about me cause all I can see, all I can see, is the fire growing inside me. It burns. Oh, it burns. And it frustrates me that it even exists, causing feels to turn tail and run, like I don't have to out up with this crap, don't have to deal with these weird feels, with the fact that I love you and it's not working like I want, the fact that I think you know that, the fact that there is the anger that I am not enough, the judgement appeal of all kinds of thought constructs that just make me tired and form a frameworked box about us as we relate - I am frustrated. Running a thousand miles away, unabated, is my deepest wish, so that somehow I can forget, leave my heart behind with the desires attached, leave it way far away so I forget, forget that I need you, that I want you, that there is something here for me and you. Forget. I want to forget so that when I consider the idea of you loving someone else, when I consider the idea of you finding someone who is enough of a reason to get your shit together, that it doesn't make me angry, but glad. I want you to be happy. As in peaceful rain intensive where a heart can grow gladly. I suppose the mountain of it all that mows my heart down with constancy is the fact it might not be with me, isn't with me, is more than me. And maybe that's it - maybe that's the key to keeping my sanity would be the recognition of the reality that it's all more than me, that I could never be enough of a thing to have change, but it's more than, more than, more than. More than love, romance, and marriage. That there is something deeper than all this. God, I need to see it. Cause all I'm feeling is frustrated. Like pounding hoofs into the sun baked pack of desert sand, rolling tide across a plain even though exhaustion, even though heat, even though thirsty - a never ending mirage parade of something to keep pulsating towards. There, with such easy non-thinking access. And it makes my heart scream, shrink back, and run, turning eyes to a tide other than, a ride most forthwith inward to hide. It's probably You that there isn't any other boy to shove myself into, because shove I could in a pure effort to release myself from the tie and hide, burying myself deep, burying myself low in an effort to forget. Forget in how the curl of the music stands around me, in how the words I use and even the things I like have been moved and shaped and impacted, leaving marks most matter of facted, holding in sharp contrast the wrap of string about my finger leading away away away from me to another. In the end, though, it would all be for naught because the knot it would tie inside my stomach would finish it all very quickly. I could not be untrue, I hate running away from reality. Maybe that's what frustrates me so, is the question of how real it is or is not. Meantime I'm supposed to be lending you tend the yes tree. Perhaps this is the tending, the movement and growth of my heart most heart rending. Perhaps facing this head on while living above ground is the stance I'm taking - perhaps it's not so much about getting lost in a tale of jealousy, but knowing truth inside of the rapid consistency as you construct beauty around me, losing strands that would reach out to entangle me, knowing true love in the process, even if it feels like the things my eyes see are blinding and binding my see, my ability to be free. I'm not moving. I refuse. I refuse to run away from this process. This post is a mess, all odd ends and congruency tangled up in direct line sharps moving up from the side, and that is how this feels, messy and emotive and words all over the place, but I refuse to move. I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying.
