Who an I without you? Nothing. Nothing at all. Not even a person. God. All I am is yours.
I was… thinking. I have been thinking, lately, about that. About how I’m nothing without you. This morning I was thinking about how easy it’s been before to just let go of people in the past, how oftentimes I’m the one that lights the match and burns the bridge, but— I don’t think I’d ever be able to burn the bridge with you. I think that’s why I’ve come to expect you to leave. One day I’ll chase you away, and you’ll throw me out in the cold, and then I’ll be nothing but an empty shell until someone else comes along that I can sink my claws into, someone else I can latch onto like a parasite. Who am I, even, without a host? I just need someone to. Watch. To see. To pay attention. To listen. Sometimes it feels like no one listens. No one ever listens. All I am is white noise. Television static. Can anyone hear me? No one. Listens. I open my mouth and words come out, but they aren’t heard. It’s like I’m not even there. How small can I make myself? I’ve spent so long making myself smaller for others.
What am I? Nothing. Without you. And yet I’m still. Trying to be something for you. Even if I don’t know what that something is. What I think you want. But it’s—! Never enough. Never right. Is it?
Am I anything at all? Anything? Does it matter? Has it ever mattered?
Who even am I? All I have ever been is what other people want. What do other people want? I’m a shell, putty for you to mould into the perfect shape.
I don’t want to think about it.
Why has it been so easy for me to leave people in the past? Maybe because I’m always expecting to be left. Maybe so I can get the jump ahead. Maybe so it doesn’t hurt so much when they do. And yet it still hurts. How many relationships have I left in an attempt to mediate the hurt? How many times have I burnt myself up from the inside out in an attempt to stop being such a parasite?
It’s different. With you. It feels like I’ve rooted myself deep into you. I’m nothing if not yours.
What would I do, if you left me? Who would I even be?
Who am I? Do I deserve to know?
You deserve so much better than me. I don’t see how you don’t see it. I’m not a good person. I’ll never be good enough for you.
I’m hardly even a person at all.
Why am I so tired. All of the time.
The only time I won’t be tired is during The End. When it’s all over. When will it be over? When can I just let go?
I want to go. Where? Where will I end up?
I spend so much time worrying about where my soul will end up. Do I even have one, at all? Am I just atoms? Am I just a husk? There’s a hole in my chest. The hole grows and it shrinks and it never goes away. What makes up me?
What if in the end, it’s just nothing?
You should be! Why aren’t you?
I hate it. I hate that you see the good in me.
You should throw me away, just like everyone else. Why don’t you?
Just throw me away! I’m trash! I’m built to be replaced!
It’s what I deserve, anyways!
