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Him

When she met him he picked her up and pulled her close. He looked at her as if she were some ethereal figure longing to be seen, even if only for a moment. The man before her was somebody she never thought she’d meet, stable yet vulnerable.

When she touched him she no longer felt alone. Someone was finally there to make her feel as though she had someone to stand beside her as she tried to pull herself up off the ground. When she touched him something inside her evolved and she wondered why she had never seen herself so strong before.

When she loved him he starved all the fears that she had held close to her for so long. He helped her feel beautiful. He smiled when her eyes danced to the beat of the music that reminded her so much of her love for him. His love was passion and pain.

When he left she felt his words cut like daggers in her chest. He twisted the knife and watched as she gasped for air. He never once looked back at the pieces that he left scattered on the ground. He slammed all the doors in her face and when he left, there was nothing left in his place. 

The Committee

They are wrong about you.

“She deserves better than you”

“”You’ll never be able to give her what she needs”

“You don’t deserve her love”

“You’re just an addict”

Lies!

The committee is lying to you and if you give in, you will never know. You will never know a love like hers. Let her show you what she has to offer and she will give you the same in return. Let your heart love her,

Not the committee.

Darkness

I lay alone in silence

Consumed by the darkness

I sometimes feel inspired

to write

to pour my soul on the paper

but to pick up the pen would mean

lifting the weight bearing down

on my shoulders

on my chest

on my heart

The darkness overtakes inspiration

It holds everything I love in a vice grip

It won’t let go

The darkness is frightening

Empowering

Strengthening

but debilitating

It is my muse

My reason for writing

And writing is my purpose

Self-Inflicted Happiness

Sometimes, when I get knocked down, it is very hard to get back up. When I end up on my knees because the weight of life’s hardships gets to hard to hold on my shoulders, it can seem like there is no way that I could be strong enough on my own to lift it and myself back up off the ground. Staying down is so much simpler. Staying down is much less tedious than figuring out how to hold the weight of life’s stresses, my own insecurities, my own self-loathing, my own sadness. All of these things add their own turmoil to my life and why would I want to have to carry those things with me anyways? So how do I lighten the load?

Well how do others do it? Others lighten their load with addictions, things to take their mind off of their own self-pity for a little while. My addiction is people. I have this addiction to having others around me to distract from my own hardships, my own problems, my own self-loathing behaviors. The people that I surround myself with seem to make the load a little lighter from time to time.

I am tired of hiding behind the facade that, not only I have created, but the facade that others have helped me create for myself. I hide behind a mask made of smiles and self-inflicted happiness. I tell people that I am happy and they believe me. I am happy when I’m around people that can help distract me from life’s ungrateful hands wrapped, unforgivably, around my throat. Then, all of a sudden, I am alone with my thoughts and there is no one there to save me. I’m back on my knees and my addiction creeps up on me again, promising relief, if I just give in.

I can stop myself at any time. I can end the cycle and just be okay with being alone. Right?

WRONG.

Alone is not my definition of a good life. I love to be around at least one other person at all times. I enjoy the company of others because the company in my own head just doesn’t cut it. The company in my head makes sure that I go over every possible outcome of the next two weeks. The company makes it difficult to enjoy being alone. The company writes my lines for me and, sometimes, it doesn’t do a very good job.

Being alone makes me want to do something that takes my mind off of being alone. Sleeping is the only thing that turns the lights out long enough for the company to quite and give me sweet relief (even if it is only for a couple of hours). I don’t like to be alone and the only thing I can think to do is leave. If I leave and throw myself into a new situation and get away from the people that help me put that mask on, then maybe, at some point, I can be happy with the company underneath, happy in my own company.

Maybe, someday, I will be able to, honestly, say that my happiness was self-inflicted.

“Me” not “We”

I don’t think you will ever understand the way that I love you. I can try my hardest to explain:

I love you in the way that the sun loves the moon. She dies every night just so that the moon can rise.  She sets every evening but she always rises at dawn. Nothing can change that. The sun is the sun and the moon is the moon. I refuse to change me for you but I would go around the world if it meant us being together again.

I love you in the way that the moon loves his stars. He is always there for them. He must be very unhappy but he continues on. Stars leave his side every night. They fall right out of the sky and he has to watch the whole thing happen. He continues to watch this because he knows that the sight, although devastating, is beautiful to us here on Earth. I am willing to sacrifice, for you, certain things in my life.

I love you in the way that the waves love the shore. The waves come through just to meet with the shore and then retreat once again. They retreat because lost items must be washed up on shore. They retreat because the shore needs to breathe. The waves come in strong with anticipation for the shore’s warm sand and retreat just to do it all over again. I would do that all for you. I would spend time away if it meant we could spend time together.

I love the parts of you that others hate because they make you unique. The sun and moon work so well together even though they have never touched. The moon loves the stars even though the stars shine brighter and are held to a higher importance more times than not. The waves love the shore even though when they crash down the pain seems almost unbearable. The pain of not having your second half can be worse than the pain that you feel when you are with them.

I love you in the way that I stayed with you for so long even though I hurt myself in the process. I must now learn to live without my second half because I have realized that “me” can come before “we”. I must learn to adjust to being alone and taking the time to focus on myself. I didn’t get to do those things before and now I get to breathe. I no longer have to feel the pain of the burning rope as I try to hold tight. I no longer have to flail in the water trying to stay afloat.

I get to be beautiful and strong and I get to feel more alive than I have in a while.

I get to be “me” not “we”.

Personal Belongings

“Daddy”,

I hope you told them. I hope you explained your poor choices. Did you own up to your mistakes?

I really want to believe that you would have the decency to do just that. But, for some reason, I can’t believe that you would want people to know what kind of person you really are. I could call you a coward. I could say that you never cared. I could try and explain to them who “daddy” is to me. But would they understand? Would they listen? Have you painted a different picture for yourself?

I bet you have. Well, painted a different picture anyway. I’m sure you haven’t told them. Because, why would you? They love you so much. Why would you want to ruin such a good thing by being honest?

Why wouldn’t you tell them? Don’t they deserve to know? They deserve to live an honest life. Well, they are. To the best of their ability anyway. If ¬†they don’t know, then their life is still honest but your’s is one big lie. You may claim three of them but you don’t claim me.

With them, you have painted this pretty little picture. I am so glad that you find pride in their accomplishments. I am so glad that, to your friends, they are “Oh! So beautiful!”. Everyone deserves to know that their “daddy” is proud of them. I’m glad they have that. I say that I could tell them what you’re really like to me, but I don’t know if I could show them the horror that I see. Why would I do that to such beautiful people. They’ve never done anything to deserve that. But, then again, I didn’t think I had done anything wrong either.

This begs the question: “Was it something I did”? NO! It’s not. You’re just one of those people in life that wants what they want, when they want it. I had nothing to do with it. And, for a while, I just figured, “Maybe it just wasn’t the right time for him”. “Maybe he needed to live his life first”. But wait… They are older than me.

You claimed them but you wouldn’t claim me. What was it that scared you away? Was it fear of commitment or was it some strange fear that I might have been the best thing that ever happened in your life? Some meaningless child that could, somehow, make you care less for yourself and more for someone else. That would scare me too. I guess what I am saying, is that I wouldn’t be so selfish as to walk away from something that I had helped to create. You are a coward.

I hope you told them. I didn’t want to be the one to flip their worlds upside down. So I really hope that you are the one that told them before I had the chance to. But I keep giving you all this credit. I keep telling myself that , maybe, by some chance, you actually told them about your errs in judgement. Would you really be the one to announce, without someone first questioning you, that you abandoned one and kept three. Maybe you did tell them and just explained it in such a way that you have continued to manipulate those closest to you. If that’s the case, then congratulations! You have officially hit a new low.

I really hope you told them and you were honest about your mistakes. I hope you regret it every day of your life. I hope it eats at you. I hope when you think of me, I haunt every thought that crosses your mind. That much, you deserve.

I hope you told them. But did you? Did you ever think to tell the precious “little ones” that they have a sister? That you abandoned your third child? That you, then, went and took care of someone else’s daughter as if she were your own?

Did you care to tell them?