Compulsion to Rupture

I can blame the alcohol or the weather
but neither created the thoughts.

No one is forcing me but me.
And you’re right.

One day I will realize that I have been chasing something
that perhaps I never really wanted in the first place.

We will never know that as fact though, will we?

You just look the part is all, I get it.
You smell like he should, you taste how I want him to taste,
everything about you is just like the guy in my head who does not exist.
You ignore me just right, just like I need him to.
And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it.
I’ve been struggling to let you go but if I do I have to let him go too and I can’t.
He’s all that I have that is keeping me tethered to the earth.
Or so I choose to believe.
You’re not him, not really, I’m sorry, I know.
I want you to be and all of this wanting
is emanating from me solely.
For you its just endlessly entertaining
to see me begging and flailing and dying
I probably look my most appealing
when I’m very nearly drowned.
I’m the drama and the set designer and the casting couch and the spotlight.
I am well aware.
I’m the Key Grip and the producer and the fucking writer of my own suspicious snares.
I have designed this whole quicksand trap scene
and I’ve made you the branch of safety just out of reach.
I guess I want to die if you step back from it and look at it with a panoramic point of view.

Don’t think though that I wouldn’t try to love you if you’d let me, you know I would.
No telling whether or not I ever really could but I’m the fool who would try.
But you’d still be right then too.
As it stands I don’t really even know you.
Just another thing that I will probably never be able to do.
You could turn out to be in actuality
the very worst thing that ever happened to me, I have no idea and frankly,
I might be better off just imagining who I want you to be.
I’ll never know in reality.
Maybe I’m afraid of real people.
Maybe I don’t feel good enough
still
to even deserve a real relationship with someone who wanted one.
I guess I don’t understand why anyone would want that with me.
You don’t.
No one is forcing me but me after all.
I’ve been using you this whole time and I know that you know that
and I really do appreciate you not insulting me,
or cutting me off completely, or hating me because of it.
I really am trying very hard to leave you alone.
I’m a terrible key grip if you hadn’t noticed.
I don’t want to believe the shit that I tell myself,
the shit I sell myself
about you anymore.
I want to let it go not because I don’t love the you in my head, I absolutely do.
I’d die for him as evidenced by my behavior the past couple of years.
Any excuse to die I suppose at this point, right?
I have to stop because it’s not real, that’s all.
It’s just me being drunk on my own thoughts.
Me making love to myself dressed as you.
Me hiding from the world in my own head.
Me making excuses for why I am a shitty person.

I have hurt real people who could have loved me and blamed it on my love for you.
I’ve behaved this way about someone or another since 1987.
No one is forcing me but me.
There’s clearly a way out but my son would never forgive me for giving up on breathing.
But it’s not your problem and quite frankly, not even your fault.

And you’re right.

One day I will realize that I have been chasing something
And what I’m chasing has nothing to do with you at all.
You just fit the description of my personal depiction.
You avoid me like him, you dress like him, you feel sorry for me the way he would.

I know that all you wanted was to have a little fun for a little while and somehow
you ended up a graven image on a pedestal inside the skull of a crazy self-destructive woman
searching for someone to love just so that she can feel like she matters.
It’s pathetic really.
I know I don’t matter to anyone.
Its just hard to accept that I never will and there is no excuse for my behavior.
You’re object other positive parent representation overacting in my amygdala.
Or so I’m told.
at any time at all though
you could force me
If you wanted(which I know you don’t)

To stay…
I don’t even know what I said that for
and you were also right when you said I never know as much as I think I know.
Hell, I don’t even know
…like
who I even am…
If I’m hellbent on not letting me love myself to death
through you anymore
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?

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