inner pain
the inner haunting. all i have to do is sit still, for about 2 minutes before i start welling up at the eyes, and my hand comes to my mouth in protest, losing the ability to breath regularly, instead hard jerks of breath come at me in a rush.. and the inner pain of the state of imbalance i create around me comes to life.
on the surface it looks like i have what i want, i have many things that i want. i should be happy, and then i see what i don't have, and what i very much want, what i definitely don't have.. all tied to the idea of love. a love that loves me, a love that is committed to my wellbeing, a love that i can get behind. so clear isn't it psychologist america? i clearly don't love myself, isn't that it? so i fall in mad love with a 40 year old divorcee with chilldren, i get into it with a 31 year old sexually disfunctional reincarnated napoleon, and the latest, a charming and theatrical drunk who has enough of a chemical effect on me that i reduce myself constantly.
i push away the clever well intentioned social scientist, he looked at me to close for comfort, i play friend with the physicist even though he's taken me to dinner a few times now, because he has security stamped so squarely on his forehead and fuck me lamenting over the loss of my exboyfriends endless well of support, i used it up completely a few years ago. broken knee now its a problem to get me some medicine to ease the pain.
instead watch me pour my heart at the clearly fruitless and profitless stature of someone who was supposed to be temporary at best.
and i have to wonder about it, as a self aware and hopefully spiritual woman, i have to wonder why i do this to myself. it almost interrupts the tragedy, this questioning of motive. and for what really? there must be something im trying to prove. love doesn't exist. i deserve a unique brand of punishment. i want attention and loss brings it quicker than joy. i feel like a student reciting medical terms. i get to this point where i just don't care to think about it anymore. shut off shut down. you're giving me a headache. its too much, its too late. its too everything.
on the surface it looks like i have what i want, i have many things that i want. i should be happy, and then i see what i don't have, and what i very much want, what i definitely don't have.. all tied to the idea of love. a love that loves me, a love that is committed to my wellbeing, a love that i can get behind. so clear isn't it psychologist america? i clearly don't love myself, isn't that it? so i fall in mad love with a 40 year old divorcee with chilldren, i get into it with a 31 year old sexually disfunctional reincarnated napoleon, and the latest, a charming and theatrical drunk who has enough of a chemical effect on me that i reduce myself constantly.
i push away the clever well intentioned social scientist, he looked at me to close for comfort, i play friend with the physicist even though he's taken me to dinner a few times now, because he has security stamped so squarely on his forehead and fuck me lamenting over the loss of my exboyfriends endless well of support, i used it up completely a few years ago. broken knee now its a problem to get me some medicine to ease the pain.
instead watch me pour my heart at the clearly fruitless and profitless stature of someone who was supposed to be temporary at best.
and i have to wonder about it, as a self aware and hopefully spiritual woman, i have to wonder why i do this to myself. it almost interrupts the tragedy, this questioning of motive. and for what really? there must be something im trying to prove. love doesn't exist. i deserve a unique brand of punishment. i want attention and loss brings it quicker than joy. i feel like a student reciting medical terms. i get to this point where i just don't care to think about it anymore. shut off shut down. you're giving me a headache. its too much, its too late. its too everything.
posted by sheloves at 11:49 PM
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