love breaks me. i lose control over the soft flesh of my body, my stomach fills up a cavernous pit of anxiety - does he like me like i like him, why isn't he texting, why isn't he being warm. feeling rejected and misunderstood and afraid of never quite fitting in has been a core wound my entire life, and love manages to put her fingers exactly on that spot and dig her nails in and twist and writhe and hurt me. i think of my parents and how what they have isn't what i ever want, the pure loneliness of two human beings in different rooms, feeling so much pain and anger and frustration each time their paths cross and they speak and they misunderstand each other. but then, what do i want? i feel like i never got a blueprint, and that is so terribly unfair, and also, i place expectations on love that are too heavy for anyone to bear. but i can't come out and say it right away, can i? that it hurts me so badly when you don't put a x on the end of a sentence, that it feels like you tore open a hole in my stomach and left me to die. that i want to bend and bend my spine until i break helping you, would jump into a car at 1am to come get you, and feel rejected and useless when you say you don't think i can help, but thanks. i would figure something out, but the point is, what hurt me so badly that i take that as a you're not good enough statement, instead of a i can't expect you to bend and break for me? the far healthier option, but i don't want healthy. i want to be consumed. i want passion too heavy to bear, flames that will burn us but are glorious in their blaze. i want you to touch me and kiss me everytime you pass me in the halls, even if someone sees. to hear you want to keep it professional at work breaks my heart in little pieces. how can you show restraint when i don't want anything other than to be near you all the time? now that you now you can have me, now you don't put any effort in anymore? i'm sick and tired and unhappy, i wish i felt as kick-ass and in control when love isn't around, or at least not drowned by insecurities and hurt but just a quiet, maybe boring sort of state. i hate you. i love you (maybe). i hate that i love you. the last one (the only one until then) meticulously flayed me open and burrowed inside my cavities and filled them and then left me empty and bleeding again, and now just looking at you hurts because i remember, and im afraid.
jbbartram-illu
vaporwave
kianamaiart
andulkaphoto
izzy806
ellievsbear
pixelskylines
