ive been in a mood to write. which isnt a good sign

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i really wish you hadnt done that. you know, gone and kissed me like that. i knew from the beginning of the night that you would be trouble. i knew when you reached around to the small of my back and held your hand there like it belonged no where else. it was a subtle hold, but somehow i could feel your fingers searing burns on my skin. you were telling me a story, i think. you were telling me a story and holding me, which now when i think about it, doesnt make too much sense. i listened intently, but more so with my body than my ears. i had absolutely no idea what you were saying. how could i, when your eyes sparkled like that and your lips moved like that and your touch fired volts of electricity through my body. i had no idea what you were saying but it sounded so damn good. all i could do to keep my knees from buckling was nod and giggle and keep drinking my drink. but with each sip, your touch melted my skin a little more, like honey or ice or fire. how are you doing this, what kind of black magic is this, and how do i stop it. you must know – you have to know – what you’re doing to me.

we left the bar when the lights turned on. we walked down the street for i dont know how long, passing pockets of intoxicated laughter. then you kissed me. like really kissed me. i dont know if it was the whisky or the gin or the evening of torturous foreplay, but all bets were off when you did. your kiss is the one that writers write about, and that songs long to replicate, and that the elderly reminisce on. your hands around my neck had me paralyzed and your mouth was feeding me some sort of energy i didnt even know i craved. i dont remember the last time this happened to me, if ever. it took what seemed like days for me to open my eyes again and when i met your eyes, all i could think was how utterly fucked i now am. there is no undoing something like that, there is no forgetting a kiss like that. two hours ago we were two strangers in a bar and now you owned prime real estate on my lips for the unforeseeable future. i really wish you hadn’t gone and done that. i am so fucked.

i just had my first meal in almost 3 days. granted it was one of those teriyaki flavored dried ramen shits with enough sodium to kill an infant, but nevertheless, food. i feel a little more alive, but not any less hollow. i also drank some water. i figured it would be a shame to die from dehydration when the real cause will be something much more tragic.

i keep thinking about that frou frou song, let go, where she keeps moaning and crying at me to let go, give in, because there is beauty in the breakdown. and i keep thinking, what the fuck are you talking about? i dont get it whatsoever. thats like saying there’s candy inside of poop, go ahead honey, and eat it. um is that a joke? anybody experiencing a breakdown will not listen to all that beauty shit for a second. its called a breakdown because it’s just that – a hideous, ugly breakage of your very being – your laugh and your will and your soul. cmon frou frou, stop sugar coating the poop.

i haven’t cried in about 4 hours. progress? maybe. intentionally distracted? more likely. whatever the reason, its starting to scare me. does this mean i dont hurt anymore? does it mean ive erased you? have i stonewalled all the heart-aching memories? or maybe my heart just turned into stone. i want to keep crying, though. without the tears and anger, i feel numb and i feel nothing.

i want to know what you are feeling. are you as beaten down as i am, or were you able to shake me off like light rain on an umbrella? are you hurting at all? i hope you are but at the same time, your hurt will make me hurt. are you relieved that you are free? that you have no one to maintain and care for? what do you tell people when they ask about me? do you make me out to be the bad guy? do you say anything at all? do they even know i existed? did i ever exist?

i took a shower today. i changed my clothes and threw the ones that smelled like you in the hamper. i cant have you lingering around, not like that. i collected the forest of tissues in my bed, the ones with the tears that you caused, and i threw them away. im throwing all of you away. except for a tiny shipping box with your name on it that you left in my car a while ago. inside, it holds a tiny memory but its not worth mentioning, its insignificant now.  its just a tiny box that doesnt take up too much space, so ill hang on to that for just a little bit.

i wonder what will happen from now on. will i compare everyone i meet to you? will they all fall short? will someone show me all the things you werent able to? what about you? will you compare the next girl’s smile to mine? will she touch you the same way i did? will she hold your hand the correct way that you like? will you gently kiss her palms the same way you kissed mine..?

its strange, how many things are running through my head. its strange because i dont feel any of it. the thoughts are coming from nowhere and fading into nowhere. they are thoughts i can transcribe into words on my screen, but i am not mentally present while thinking them. i feel numb. i feel nothing. i feel paralyzed and i feel trapped in a void.

anyways, back to bed. i have some shows to catch up on and some empty walls to stare at.

today, i hurt. and my god, it hurts so much. its the worst kind, too. not like the sharp pang of a blow to the face, and not like the buried pain of a bruise on your shin. this is the kind of hurt that is slow and careful and deep, and the kind that i can never truly identify or fully mend. it is a wound in my very core and it penetrates through my entire body: in my chest, in my smile, in my tears, in my sleep. it’s invisible on the exterior, conveniently, but always intrusively present inside me. i cant take my mind off it; it weights me down, saturates my sight, resonates through my speech, and chills my touch. i furiously fight to bury it down or scrape it out or stab it in its cruel black heart, but it’s relentlessly quick to disintegrate and reform again. it renders me helpless and demands me to relinquish control. the more i try to fight it, the more it claws at my insides, leaving permanent scars while reminding me of its dreadful presence. i cant escape it and if i surrender, it will swallow me whole. the light at the end of the tunnel is not only so far away, but uncomfortably uncertain. until the glimmer emerges, i will make myself sick, drink too much, fuck too much, starve too much, and feel too little. and all in vain because the very cause of this unruliness is who would have the power to stop it. the uncanny part of this is that i saw it coming all along. its dark clouds lingered in the distance and everyday i coyly diverted my gaze, hoping we could beat it to the finish line. but we couldnt. i couldnt, i failed, and now i will hurt.

i contest the saying that you cant miss something you’ve never had. yeah fine, i can’t miss it but i still know that i’m missing it. i can literally feel the void – a physically empty space in my body that emotions like love and affection should be filling and constantly replenishing. the annoying thing that gets me is that this space is empty but so, so heavy. i was never able to quite wrap my head around that. how can being completely hollow feel the weight of tons of iron bricks? some days i can ditch a few of them on the side of the road, but for the most part, they have taken permanent residence inside of me. ive tried to rationalize my seemingly misguided pessimism and indifference by slapping myself, metaphorically of course, across the face to snap out of it. but i can never shake the feeling or the weight. happy people sometimes make me sick. i dont know if its because im green with envy or black with segregation. i struggle with how to communicate with these people. i cant relate to your joy and you cant relate to my pain, so let’s just, like, i donno, talk about the weather? are you all fooling yourselves, or are you truly content with so many aspects of your life? how can you be when there is so much ugly in this world? are you sheltered from it all? do you just turn a blind eye? have you never experienced sadness? have you never been lost, unloved, degraded, abused? am i just living in a completely different world than everyone else? i don’t understand it. sure i could trick myself into happiness for the sake of it, but when buzz wears off and i retreat back to my bed, my mind, my thoughts, the darkness is still there. just because i turn the lights on during the day, it doesn’t make the night less real or less dark. when i was younger, i never really fantasized about getting swept away by some prince charming man like most girls dreamt about, i assume. i actually have no idea, i was born the wrong gender (great job, God). but i always wanted some long lost family i’d never knew about to show up on my doorstep with a “LOL JK SURPRISE! you’ve actually got a huge cuddly family and we’re all gonna love the shit of you for the rest of your pathetic, lonely life whether you like it or not!” yeah fine, it’s a enormous improbability but damn it, can’t a girl dream? well, no because dreaming is useless its attainable. at some point, dreaming becomes and excuse for endless whining saturated in self pity, greed, and laziness. my dream is futile because the reality is im stuck right where i am. my mythical family does not exist and never will at any time, anywhere, ever. its just me, myself and i; it always has been and it will always will be. once i realized this, like truly internalized this, things became easier and i became stronger. by no means was this an overnight epiphany – its been many years of angsty depression and misanthropy, and i still sometimes catch myself daydreaming about getting swept back to that safe place that i’ve been so cruelly exiled from. but i know better than that. now i am attempting to operate within this darkness with some sense of clarity. im gaining somewhat of a morbid type of freedom, lingering somewhere between indifference and fearlessness – a strange balance of not caring about caring too much about not caring. i can only explain it as a fire burning through a hail storm. i am the fire. the rest of the world is the hail.