My life has been fairly undramatic up to this point. Never have I had a gun pointed at me and never have I pointed a weapon at someone else in defense of myself or someone I loved. Never has a family member or a significant other mistreated me. Never have I gone hungry at night because my family couldn’t pay the bills. Never have I felt alienated because of my race, my gender, my intelligence level, or my interests. I am not the victim of an angry government. I have never gone to sleep fearing that I might not survive the next day. There have been thousands, perhaps millions of people more deserving of sympathy than I. I know this. I understand this perfectly well. My suffering has been the result of my own actions and I take responsibility for these actions.
I am a white, upper middle-class American teenager. I am of above average intelligence, but I won’t amaze any colleges. I am of above average beauty, but Tyra won’t come knocking on my door. Some say I have a beautiful voice, but Simon would turn up his nose at me, I know. I am interesting, but not so much that the boys are lining up, just waiting to date me. There are two things I am proud of, one that has merit to the world, and one that has merit only to me. My writing and my taste in music. I have always enjoyed writing and I am proficient at it. My taste in music is something that I have spent a great many hours refining and developing. I am pretentious about it.
I have been clinically depressed for four years. I have been on six different antidepressants, plus a tranquilizer. I hate using anti-depressants because I cling to my depression. I cling to it because it’s the only way I have ever been able to get the attention that I want. I’m content to be tragic. Who wants to be happy? I’d rather be sad and be noticed than be happy and invisible. I’m terribly selfish, and terribly childish about it all. Sometimes I wish someone would slap me across the face and say, “Grow the fuck up!” Sometimes I wish I were dead. I wish I were stronger. I wish someone would care. I wish I had a best friend to talk to or a therapist that I’m not afraid will tell everything I say to my mom, whom I can’t stand interfering in my life, even if it’s opening my door to ask me how my day was. She was never there for me as a child and I don’t want her to be there for me now. I wish somebody would look at me and see what’s wrong, for once, instead of just passing over me. I really don’t know if I want to be happy or depressed. I mean, who in their right mind WANTS to be depressed, but I have openly refused to do things that might make me mentally healthy, like stick to the meds. I just
I say “I” way too fucking much. I’m so self-obsessed and I KNOW IT but I CAN’T STOP.
When we first started talking, I came from a relationship that was an absolute joke. We knew each other for a while, but we were never best friends. We started dating. As time progressed, we had a little bit of a bumpy road, but now its all in the past. All that matters is that you know how much I love you.
It’s ironic that I love you so much, because 10 months ago I could never picture myself really saying those 3 little words and meaning it. I never believed in being in love, and you knew that. Well obviously you changed my mind. It worked out for the better because I’m so much happier now that I’ve been with you. It’s kind of like you opened my eyes. Besides the countless other reasons I love you, you know that my parents are weird. They have each had a number of divorces, and I’ve never really felt like they’ve given me the attention I’ve needed. You provide that for me, and it makes me happy to know that you love me just as much as i love you.
Even if our relationship ever ends, I want to say thank you for teaching me how to love, and that I will always love you.
Sorry that you had to find out the way I feel the way you did. I hope nothing changes between us and everything will be ok.
I had my reasons not to tell you but I guess that doesn’t matter now.
Please promise nothing will change. I have liked you for so long but I have been so afraid of change that I couldn’t say anything.
Lets just hope what I said wont tear us apart. Should I have kept my mouth shut?
I think you need medication. Seriously. Why do you want to enlist my recent ex into your Bash-Me Anti-Me party? I guess it must be lonely, since you are the only one in it. Nobody hates me like you do. I can understand. I broke your heart. But why tell lies about me, saying that I cheated on you, that You broke up with Me? I never cheated on you, never in the 3 years that I have known you. And you know the sick part? You have probably convinced yourself that I have. That is part of the reason I broke up with you: You see things differently, hyperbolize and exaggerate things to no end. I bet that is why I have been getting strange looks from people I used to know in our relationship… you didn’t just tell my ex but a slew of others just so you can slash my reputation. [You know why I didn’t talk to friends that we accumulated over the years? I wanted you to have them. I felt Sorry for you. I didn’t think you had the capacity to make any friends so I let you have them.]
Near the end, you even accused me of loving your mother a little too much. You know what? Your family is great and they were the hardest thing to give up when I broke up with you. Sometimes, I think I stayed with you a little longer because I felt sorry for them; I was the only one who could calm you down in one of your fits. Now… I don’t know who could do that now.
You were always jealous. You gave up all your friends just so I couldn’t have any myself. And that was another regret I had: giving up all the people I knew for you. Originally, I thought this was what love was about, sacrifice. But, since I have had a healthy relationship, I see now how twisted ours was. I have spent the last few months rebuilding every relationship you severed for me. It was hard and I am making up for lost time.
You know what? I don’t care if you hurt me. I have been taking that shit for years. But never let me catch you verbally abusing anyone else, you bitch.
As a final note, fuck off. Stop trying to ruin my life. I can ruin yours so easily. Remember that secret you told me, that thing that can destroy you and so many others? Just be glad I am not as petty as you, as weak as you are, as fake as you are. You are pathetic.
the tan man
Such a flood of warm and intense memories of holding you closely, while we stood inbetween the isles. I wanted to pull you into me. I didn’t want to let you go. Sure, I acted cool an gentle. But I wanted to be so much more aggressive. Oh, how it would have been so nice to kiss your neck, and throat, and lips. Holding back the engine..if you know what I mean! I can still smell your hair. I can still feel your hips and round bottom… 🙂
I noticed how you tilted your pelvis…wow..I surely did. It was so HARD to let you go. I noticed how your hug was as warm and strong as mine. And instead of crazy butterflies in the stomach, I felt peace, and intensity at the same time.
Do you remember how hard it was to steal away for those few moments! Do you remember how hard it was to find a quiet place to talk? We wanted to share so much more.
Do you recall the feeling of my hand on your skin, and jeans..running along your hips and thighs and arms?
I recall the glistening of your lips. Intoxicating. And your laugh makes my heart float away…I can hear it now. And I am actually laughing as I write this!
Do you still wear jeans so well? Do you still wear boots so well?! I never told you how sexy you were, when we were in person. Did I?
I should have been more honest then.
Tightly woven to my lips,
In pleasure or in pain.
Worn like an old wool sweater,
the knowledge that together
Sewn like a button to a coat,
Keeping me comfortably closed
when the sun doesn’t show
and the cold swirls.
The warmth tucked inside my skin,
hands holding mine when the snow begins
Your eyes teach mine to see.
Warmth so close,
who else knows what you know