You know you’re right.

Here I am, alone again. Relief flooded with loneliness. I haven’t gone a single day without you crossing my mind. But at least now, my thoughts aren’t as clouded as they once were. Once I stumbled upon another one of your kind, I saw the game before he would play his next move. Always a dramatic event that was more unbelievable than the last. Just like your kidney failures and multiple hospital stays that were life threatening…for attention, and to keep me off your back when you were doing something you didn’t want me to know about. I am now fully aware of where we both went wrong. I was so dependent on you. I would do my typical push and pull with you as I do with everyone I become close with. I’d push, you’d pull, we would take turns playing tug of war with each other’s hearts. I would still do anything for you within reason.
As you probably already knew, she lost it again. Although this time, it was so much worse. It ended in violence. You would have never hit me. You would never have done the things she did. The pain I feel from the injuries I sustained from her attacks is unfathomable to anyone but me. The third time, I finally broke. I snapped like a twig under a pair of hiking boots and beat her until my knuckles bled. And still…I’m the only one that suffers. The multiple kicks and punches I took to the back have nearly left me feeling crippled. Each breath feels like a dull blade is being driven and twisted into my spine and I’ve killed my stomach from all of the arthrotec I’ve been taking because I’ve been too stressed to eat. You were right. I hate that about you. You’re always fucking right.

I miss you. You used to be my best friend and I loved you with all my heart. Now when I need someone to talk to, I have nobody. For what it’s worth, I’m deeply remorseful about what I did. My tongue tends to get slippery when soaked with spirits and sorrow. I think about you whenever I wash my dishes. How we did them together. When I pick up my guitar, when I listen to music, when a new guy approaches me I find myself comparing them to you. Since I’m nodding off, I’m going to end this entry and hope you’ll see it. I love you.

This one’s for you.

As I sit in solitude, something I haven’t done in months, I think of you while I stare at the wine glass that is stained with my red lipstick. Swallowing down the room temperature garnacha that is slowly chilling in the crisp autumn air while I sulk in my seat in the garage that has become a dingy oasis where I escape my realities and down my sorrows. My back hurts, this chair is horrid, but it’s better than facing the empty bed that awaits me. I pop a pill, drink, smoke a hit or two, drink… lather, rinse, repeat. The neighbors dog won’t stop barking in my otherwise eerily quiet neighborhood. It’s annoying now, but I suspect that much won’t bother me soon enough. I don’t know why I keep thinking about you. I’m saddened by the silence that was imminent to follow after our last interaction. I don’t understand why I feel this absolute need to keep in contact and obtain approval from someone whom mostly, has made me feel like I’m unworthy and like a nuisance. Nobody that I know personally, can wrap their heads around this infatuation I have with you…and frankly, nor can I. I know I am easy on the eyes. I know I have creative talents, but I also know I’m crazy. I’m insecure. I’m damaged. I’m spiteful, vengeful, quick tempered, and at times, emotionless. If you hurt me, bet your sweet ass I’ll cut you twice as deep and leave you drowning in a puddle of your own blood…metaphorically speaking of course. The people whom fall in love with me, are the ones that I won’t ever truly love them back. Only the unobtainable catch my interest. Shouldn’t surprise me…I’ve always been very competitive. But I know how you got in. Narcissism. Manipulation disguised as trust. You great at it. Finding my weakness, at first, pointing them out as being beautiful, unique and amazing. And later using them to hurt me. I’m well aware that I didn’t handle myself or you in a rational manner through the course of the fucked up disaster we created that turned into an affair that shouldn’t have existed. That summer afternoon you messaged me and said you were in the area, said you wanted to see me, I didn’t bother combing my hair, putting actual clothes on and making myself look presentable. I was expecting a grown up version of the scrawny, dorky, hyper spaz that I used to protect from bullies in high school which eventually led me to being kicked out. But that is not who showed up. A beat up Malibu pulls up, and out pops out a long haired, bearded, tattooed guy that looks like he either rolled out of a dumpster or off a tour bus.  It didn’t matter to me…you looked sexy. Not at all like the goofball kid that followed me everywhere in high school. I run into your arms and the testosterone pumped through your veins as you swept me off my bare, dirty feet and spun me around. Then I caught a glimpse of your eyes. Amazing green hazel
eyes that later would tell me everything before you could even opened your mouth.

How bizarre it is that everything turned around. Although you were still visible anxious in my presence just as you were at times back then, I wasn’t sure what the reason was. In the beginning of our affair, You said you were intimidated by my beauty and presence. I was the hot girl at school. I was the cool girl. The one who didn’t give a shit what her parents thought about her green hair, or whatever color was chosen that week. I was the girl that smoked pot, cigarettes, drank and did drugs on the weekends. But you didn’t know I did those things because of the things I had been through. At 15, I had been through more than most have been through in the course of their lives. You said you would stare at me during class while I held a gaze that was unbreakable at the wall, window, table or whatever… off somewhere. You said it was intriguing and beautiful. You wondered what I was thinking about. You didn’t know that I was thinking about how my mother’s husband tried to fuck me the night prior or about how I was beaten by my mother’s second husband while she was either at work or off somewhere drunk. She was always M.I. A. Never there to protect me. No more than a year later I would be abandoned by her after I told her that her husband was after me. He was trying to fuck me. A young girl that never had a stable father figure. Whom didn’t even know her own until she was 8 years old. And his wife was an abusive psycho bitch. Surrounded by instability and was made to believe I was the problem. I told you everything. Gave you the key to my closet and let all the skeletons tumble out at your feet.

You seemed to empathize…which I think you really did. I’m no girl next door, easy going, carefree beauty that someone is graced with. No. I will blow through your entire being like a category 5 hurricane. Like hurricane Andrew. (See what I did there?)  Just as you did mine.

….to be continued

Tragically torn

So she’s back. She’s amazing, she takes care of you, she treats you so well it doesn’t seem real. She’s stunningly beautiful with a heart to match.

But there’s a dark side…
She’s resentful because of all the things you’ve done out of pure selfishness and spite. She’s betrayed you, she’s hurt you, she’s said things that sting at the mere thought so you fired back harder. In your blind rage, you’ve said and done things that seemed justifiable at the time but we’re just cruel and you now see that now that your words and actions aren’t driven by irrational, red hot fury. You’ve hurt her, and she doesn’t let you live it down. Not for a single moment. She’s addicted, not only to you, but has a monkey on her back that you can’t shake loose with a baseball bat. And this, this burden she carries on her back, weighs twice as much on your heart. You don’t want to be an idiot. You don’t want to lose her, you don’t want let go, but holding on its just as difficult. How do you know if this is the choice for you? The luxury of being with someone so generous is addictive. You’re hooked. She’s got you, she’s pulling you under and then… you realize you can’t breathe…you kick ass hard as you can to get to the surface just to get a mouthful of air only to be pulled under again. It’s exciting and so so terrifying but being the adrenaline junkie you are, you keep going back. The rush of the fiery passion between the two of you is unreal. So you question if it truly is because what goes up must come down, what seems too good to be true probably is…RIGHT? So you pull away. You’ve got others that want to be yours. Others that are successful, brilliant, attractive and want to spoil the shit out of you. So with your son in mind, you start weighing out the options. You start thinking, financial stability is very important. You’re unable to work due to your own health issues so you’re looking for someone whom is able to take some of that burden off your shoulders. She says she’s willing, you believe her, but why is it if you settle in with her, you feel like you can’t breathe, heart races, and you go into a flight or fight response and the anxiety is so much to bear. She’s willing to do anything to win your heart. But there she is staring at it through the glass case, and just a few tickets shy of claiming what she feels is rightfully hers. You know she deserves it…but you just can’t hand it over in its fragile state. You ask for time. You ask for the opportunity to date around and wait to make a commitment out of it. Commitment scares you. When adopting your cat, You wouldn’t even consider getting a kitten because you can’t commit to that responsibility. You are on a prepaid phone plan because you’re so scared to commit to anything. This must mean she isn’t the right one…or maybe it’s you. Your fucked up perception on relationship. It’s easier to keep distance but it doesn’t stop the pain you’re about to cause by pushing her away again.