The Unwanted Art of keeping hold of a thread
It’s me, always, it feels
Cast as the villain
Never quite more than a friendly extra
But the days,
The days go on.
Days move and I move
It feels she stays stagnant
It feels like minutes when it’s been hours
It feels like hours when it’s been days
I lose track of everything
I lose track of her
She doesn’t like my habits
Yet she cares about me a lot
But the betrayal she feels is more than what she deserves
And I actually agree with the sentiment.
How to be a good person?
How to be a good friend?
How do I stop unintentionally harming her fragile heart?
How do I be perfect?
How do I meet her demands?
Demands that drain me of joy?
I move with time and forget it all the same.
I don’t think she does.
I think she knows time all too well, and knows moving as well as she knows a stranger.
And yet, why do I have to do the majority of things?
I get punished for ignoring the bare minimum.
I don’t do the bare minimum because I think I’d rather have my teeth plucked out.
Her luck is bad.
My luck is fine.
I want to share that luck but how do I show *love?*
My version isn’t correct.
It never is.
Demands of love
Demands of care
Demands of friendship
Demands of… something.
What?
What is it?
All I feel are demands
And it’s difficult to feel the determination to try anymore.
I want to let go,
I can’t quite do that yet.
How do I let go of something so worn down?
How do I set it free?
It’s nothing but something tattered.
But despite this,
Despite the chore it has become to try to make her happy,
There’s a deep feeling of care I have.
I think I will always have it.
I care about her.
I want her gone from my life.
I hope she finds great happiness.
I want to go to her house just to keep driving by with a sneer.
I desperately need for her to catch that break she deserves.
I want to remove her from any place I can see her.
I would give anything for the burden life has given her to be lifted.
I hate her.
I despise the idea of what this friendship is, now.
The work it takes and the shitty yield don’t feel equal.
I am blind to time, and yet, it has felt like this has gone on too long.
I hate her.
I hate her in a way that only love can.








