…contemplating the worst. Why? What does it matter? I’ve broken her heart and there’s nothing that can fix the crack in my heart for doing so.
“Suicide is not selfish. Suicide is, normally, death caused by the illness of depression. It is the final symptom. A final collapse under unbearable weight. Suicide is a tragedy. If you have never been close to that edge, try not to judge what you cannot understand.”
… on the precipice of loneliness. I make my lady unhappy with who I am… but we love each other dearly. I know it’s true.. I love her. I know it because I care about the things she does.
Yet that’s the downfall, too.
She sees no issue with posting her bikini selfies online for the general public.. she’s even posted herself in her bra… and with who I am, you just don’t do that… not while you’re with me.. if you’re with me, you and I are exclusive.. and I know the argument..
Bikinis and underwear show the exact same amount of skin.
I agree. However, underwear is intimate. It’s meant to be seen in the bedroom. If you share yourself with the public in intimate wear, what am I?
I’m sure many disagree with this and that’s okay. I hope I don’t catch too much flak for it..
Anyway, that’s one thing. The rest is similar, in that it’s something I view differently and she doesnt have an issue with. So she disregards how I feel about it, does it anyway… yet we love each other deeply…
Love is finicky and.. possibly overrated… so here I lie.
On the edge of goodbye…
…feeling forgotten. Only I do it to myself. I left my girls house early tonight so I could come home and play a video game with my cousin. I don’t regret doing so but now I’m worried. See, she’s a night owl. She can stay up all night. Her very gay friend will pick her up and they’ll hang out into the early morning.. I specify his sexuality because I have to remind myself shes with someone who isn’t romantically interested. But yet I worry..
I don’t mind if she decides i’m not good enough, which I really don’t think I am, and leaves me. What I’m worried about is not being worth being told I’m not worth it and getting cheated on.
Insecure much? Very. I’m man enough to admit that. But what is that worth when what you’re admitting makes you less of a man?
I am nothing more than
A little boy inside
That cries out for attention
Yet I always try to hide
~ Staind (Epiphany)
…late at night.. around the time I like to call the witching hour. This witching hour isn’t so bad this time. Another is awake and communicating. I feel better knowing someone else is there. Knowing that I’m not alone.
Of course… I look around my room, with the dim blue light of my tower fan being the only light.. I’m physically alone. I understand that you can be physically alone but not be mentally alone.. tell me why I crave both?
There are things I miss. Things I wish I could have again. Things that could relax me like the strongest drug; could lull me into a serene state of being with the easiest of motions… but I don’t think I can ever have that again.
The mind of a broken man is.. well.. chaotic.
I finish enjoying a game on my computer only to lie down and stare into the darkness of my ceiling.
My relationship is on a train through the rain forest but was derailed 2 months ago. I want to save the train but I’m not sure its salvageable.
My job is good but talk about anxiety. First job out of retail, yet there are still elements of retail.. amazing how that happens.
My brain isn’t looking to kill me tonight. Only make me very uncomfortable and ridden with worry. About what? I’m not sure. I kind of wish I felt sad instead.
At least feeling sad is familiar…
You’ve got me.
A new, simpler, happier life?
One I know I have more control of?
Why is it always at night?
I want to be well again…