time after time

I can't openly say this to anyone I know.. so I come here, to the blank screen, to the only true friend who has been here time and again.  I'm back to the white, sterile abyss where my own words are taken down to pixels.  My childish voice has no character or emotion, and I must depend on the thought itself to shine through to express the raw emotion burning in my lungs.

Since I've been old enough to walk, I've been losing myself in the world.  Maybe it was a supermarket at the age of three, but the wisdom and intelligence I've gained with age have only opened new worlds to lose myself in.  The internet is one particular world, and a favorite of mine, in which I've found comfort.  Despite the places it has given me to express myself, the people it's brought to my life, and the endless information and humor it has bestowed upon me, the most treasured gift from the internet has been a simple teenage boy.

This boy was and is an individual world to me all on his own.  Since I've met him, he has been as much family to me as my younger sister, only we chose to be so.  At first, I felt him to be the older brother I was always supposed to have, but our higher power forgot.

After falling in love with him, I was always seeking him out, only to be rejected and broken time and again.  I ached to touch him just one time, to lay eyes on just one smile I caused, to hear his laughter unaffected by any telephone or microphone.

And I'd give up forever to touch you
Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now

After years of friendship and confusion and ache and jealousy and feeling a hot knife in my chest at the sight of him holding another girl in a picture - she they it them he SHE won, i lost - I saw him in December.  Touching him was intoxicating.  I quickly realized that I had been addicted to something I had never before had, and that the taste of his mouth truly was the drug I always dreamt it would be.

And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
Cause sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight

After months of the unmistakable high he offered me, I was quickly thrown into withdrawal.  I exploded like the wild animal I had become.  A beastly being devoted to satisfying my lusts and insecurities, cut off cold, attacked the source.  Of course, this worsened matters, until my overpowering need for his love could not be fixed, even when I attempted the milk it from him with any manipulating tactics I knew.  He turned from me.  The only one who had understood... no longer knew who I was.

And I don't want the world to see me
Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

So I say now, to myself, to this white page, to anyone as unfortunate to run across this and waste their time reading it..

I love the way his hair looked on my pillow.
I love the memory of his long, ivory limbs tangled in my sheets.
I love the bottomless gold, the endless sunset, that hid in his eyes.
I love the way any color looked better when he wore it.
I love how the little bit of hair on his chest grew thicker on one side.
I love the little silver earrings and how they felt on my lips.
I love thinking of the look on his face the first time he saw me.
I love how he managed to find the perfect little devil cat.
I love the odd bit of cartilage on his right ear.
I love how his jeans barely hang on those slender hips.
I love how crazy he'd get when he hadn't had a coke in a while.
I love his odd obsession with rubix cubes.
I love how our different hobbies didn't affect us.
I love how his music is almost as wierd as mine.
I love how he'd give me the tomatoes off his sandwich.
I love how we helped each other out when the other was sick.
I love the dent in his chest that ampliflied his heartbeat in my ear.
I love how some of his friends thought I was a turn for the better.
I love not understanding half of his techie talk.
I love that he was okay with Giomanach Ozymandias.
I love that he convinced me to go with Berlynne Rain.
I love how his long fingers had looked on a piano.
I love how he whipped all of us at crosswords.
I love how he never asked me to wear makeup.
I love remembering giving him his little coffee cup I made.
I love when he would annoy his mother on purpose.
I love how he took me into his world in MS.
I love the way he smelled, shower or not.
I love that he wants to donate his hair.
I love how he asked me to marry him, a week after seeing me.
I love when I would take his shirt off so I could wear it.
I love how taking his belt off was like unwrapping a gift.
I love that he was going to let me paint murals on our walls.
I love when we planned our bombshelter against zombie-raptors.
I love the sounds he made when I did something right.
I love how he would hope month after month.
I love that we both like silver better than gold.
I love how he accepted my adoration/hate for werewolves.
I love how we would wander walmart for hours.
I love his reaction when we hit the waves together.
I love imaging how great the wedding would've been.
I love that he wanted to name his brother James Bond Jr.
I love that I had still gotten to be a couple "firsts".
I love that I could write this list forever..
and never run out of things to say.

I am thinking it's a sign that the freckles
In our eyes are mirror images and when
We kiss they're perfectly aligned
And I have to speculate that God himself
Did make us into corresponding shapes like
Puzzle pieces from the clay

I will not stay and I will not leave- I will no longer try to affect his future or his decisions in my involvement in it... rather, I will not fight for his commitment or love, or deny it.  I step aside.  I am currently a wound from which loves pours forth and will not make any attempt to change it.  Only when he is finished will I take the remaining matters into my own hands.

If you're lost, you can look, and you will find me-
time after time
If you fall, I will catch you, I will be waiting-
time after time

Naoise

I wanted to give him everything again.  My friendship, my body, my future.

I thought I was the only one.  All he talked about was how much he loved and needed me and how heartbroken he was.

He was playing me a fool.

Fuck.

I'm sinking in to something ugly.

I thought if I was nice enough, sweet enough, and focused on the pretty things, my heart would warm and my life would turn for the better.  I've been taking blows, absorbing the shock with a little smile on my face.  My insides are tender with hurt, but I nonetheless sit with arms open.

I am not viewed as a threat, not in any way.  I sit here, in panties and a pale pink peasant blouse, unbrushed hair and a ruined face.  I sit here, filled with a cold hate.

Every time I open my arms, I am cut open.  My heart is watched as it beats, weakly, hopefully, and left in its cavity to whither in isolation.

I gasp.  My throat tightens, throbs.  My eyes sting, red and wet, but no tears fall.  My muscles ache and I crave the comfort of my sheets.

I feel as though I'm sliding.  I grasped a hand, desperately, but the hand withdrawls, disgusted by my compassion.  I seek friendship, companionship, but the owner of the hand laughs in my face and shoves me steeper down the hill, where cold arms wrap around me, devouring my hope.

I will make my feast on hope.  They are not people, but monsters of hot, oily flesh and sharp little teeth.  I will take them when they are weakest and feed, as they did on me.

My savior.  My hand out of the black, with his hot oily flesh and sharp little teeth.  He licks his fingers clean of my innocence, my naive ways.  My ability to love, eaten by a creature that can only crave the flesh.  I gave it, freely.

And into the jaws of the devil himself, I go.

Such an idiot.

So.  Even though he said multiple times that he couldn't choose if he wanted me or not, he sure didn't mind putting his mouth on every inch of my body.  And I sure didn't mind letting him.  I should've known better.  I shouldn't known there was no indecision.  I should've known there was no intention of ever giving me anything more than sex.

If you were rolling around in bed with your ex, it would be a kind of emotionally complicated situation, wouldn't it?

I'm a slut.  I'm a godforsaken slut.  I handed my body right over after 10 minutes of him.

Sometimes I wish some stranger would come into my house and scream "HE DOESN'T WANT YOU!  HE WANTS TO FUCK YOU!" and shoot me in the head, saving me the pain of doing it myself.

I can't see him anymore, because he's single.  Single means you have no ties to anyone else.  S-I-N-G-L-E.  Complicated?  No.  There was no complication for him when he slipped his hands over my bare back, biting into my flesh and wimpering with want.  I could've been any body underneath him.  I could've been anybody.

Because I'm nobody.  Not even a complication.  Just a slut.

I would've been his slut.  I would've been his slut until the day I was put into my grave.  As long as I knew I was the only slut for him.

ha.

The only way I can let the person I love be happy... is to not be in their life.

God, if there isn't a good reason for making it have to be this way, I'm kicking your ass when I get up there.

I'll never be able to ask him now because of you, God.  You and your mind games.  I guess you just knew all along.

Ugh.  I miss him like hell already.