blogging, depression, love, passion, self, thoughts, Uncategorized

The most beautiful/painful love.

I have been in love for almost eleven years

The most beautiful love I have and will ever feel

And since we are taught to act according to logic

I have tried again and again to shut this feeling out

It’s nothing like the average heart could compare to

In fact, I sometimes wish I couldn’t experience it

Instead, feeling satisfied with a normal man seems better

But my heart and my head fight so fucking much

It’s like I can’t make up my mind

So I pull and push him away over and over

I can’t imagine how painful it is for him

Probably as painful as it is for me to never hear from him

Our dynamic has been poisoned by the earth

Until we learn how to create a remedy

Just for us.

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blogging, depression, life, loneliness, love, passion, poetry, sadness, self, thoughts, Uncategorized

An Ode to My Greatest Challenge

Why can’t I let myself draw?

Do I loathe who I am so much that

When I sit down, either cross-legged or

One leg up on my stool at the desk

I freeze

My heart, my brain, my hand

The muscles are failing and sore because

Apparently I trained… myself, to do this… to myself

From a very young age.

I’m a protector.

If it can’t be perfect, then I don’t make the attempt

And if I don’t attempt, I cannot be mocked

For failing at the thing that I absolutely adore the most

The very thing that used to keep me alive.

I can’t let myself draw

Because then I don’t have to face that face in the mirror

The absolute adoring love hidden, somewhere in my house

That I apparently hid away long ago

In order to

Protect.

The love that I have been running away from

So that I don’t experience the disappointment

Of never feeling wanted

Or desired

And satisfied.

 

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blogging, depression, learning, life, loneliness, love, self, thoughts, Uncategorized

Undeserving by association

I’m lonely and sad.  Not as sad I have been before – the sharp pain of feeling like I have no one is not exactly the only companion I have any longer.  That pain moved on, and instead I’m truly alone, not feeling empty, but seeing the empty space that was once loneliness now reminds me how I truly feel about myself.  At some point in my young life I saw meaninglessness in following the things that brought me joy and made me feel, just to make myself stop feeling, and by association I became undeserving of joy.  That was the path that I had built for myself up until now.  Now I keep tentatively following the pavement of that path, but trying to look around – backwards, forwards, to every side, up and down sometimes – to get myself out of here.  I can see many other paths, paths that don’t even require pavement or anything, that are so much more suitable.

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