Hopelessness

I’ve been on exactly 3 dates since I met you, almost 9 years ago. As much as I want you to know what that’s like for me, I can’t honestly wish anyone feel this alone for so long or to feel like such a loser every fucking day. What’s the path forward, huh? Does one even exist? Has it ever?

Red

The colour red represents so many things. I remember talking to you about colours and you told me that the colour red was mostly on fast food chains to instil hunger when we look at it. I see it now. I’ve never met someone that was so interested in talking about anything in the universe from how we were created to how the future will be like. Let me tell you how this relationship feels:
Red triggers a surging emotion in me that is very much overwhelming for a small body like mine to comprehend and cope. When I see you, I get red. No, like literally. Your wavy brown hair which you complain looks like a mop when to me it reminds me of the waves and how vast the ocean is just wanna fluff it up and oh Lord don’t get me started on how it smells – like a cozy cabin home. Thinking about it now I can’t wait to bash my face in it again. Your pretty brown eyes and how it gets so subtle as if it’s humbling when you look at me. Your nose that you always hated for being so huge. You know what they say about those with big nose. They have huge ___. Fill in the blanks on your own. I love your soft lips that will always have that red glow making it look so plumpy and juicy. Mmm yummy. That kinda red that rushes throughout my body when you touch me, hold me, grabs me by the waist and tell me how beautiful I look – even after crying relentlessly for weeks. My cheeks flushed red when I laugh consistently over the words that comes tumbling out of your mouth. You don’t realise it but I love the way you dance and sing your way through everything. You literally bring music to life.

m.s

You take your tea, with two sugars and a dash of milk. You smell like lavender and a good-night sleep. Your arms around me feel like what I imagine the last-burning star would feel like just before it dies; the last moment of heat before nothing. nothing. You always said I should try writing poetry, and I would just laugh the suggestion off. “my thoughts are like knotted headphone wires” were my exact words. The thing with poetry is you never write it for fun. You write it because your whole being hurts and you have nowhere left to turn. Pages, pages of words filled with empty feelings, feelings that hold no real arbitrary meaning is where you will find my words for you. Did my feelings for you ever exist or did I fall in love with the version of you my mentally-ill brain saw you. It does that sometimes. You are not special and yet you are. You. You. You. i’ve tried drugs, drink, sleep, sex. Anything to lull the obsessive compulsion my brain has in reminding me of you. I wish to forget you ever existed. I prayed for you or rather to be rid of you. I got on my knees and I begged God to remove the mere thought of you. Clearly, it didn’t work. It never does like that. But I will pray, plead, beg. I think this is the first time i’ve truly comprehended how fucked up I am. I know this because I couldn’t bring myself to hate you for leaving me. She is gorgeous. pretty. blonde. skinny. I don’t blame you. I bet you her smile is easy to put there and I bet you it stays there without your assistance. I bet you she doesn’t make you over think every word you say before you say it. I bet. I bet. I bet you will be happier without me. I wish you nothing but happiness without me.

Dear supposed “fiance”…………….

Seeing as you sometimes don’t get back in touch with me for days on end, I often wonder how serious you REALLY are about “wanting to marry” me. And I’m going to point out that if you keep up these mind games, there’s many other lads out here who want me to themselves. I guess they’re just waiting for you to dump me, so that they can get on with having an actual genuine relationship with me. It will be your loss if you decide to dump me. I can see it coming. You can’t fool a worthy human being. You can only fool women who are as low as YOURSELF. I’ve had enough relationship experience over the years to recognize when a lad is playing with my feelings. And don’t ever forget that just because you might decide to dump me, it doesn’t mean that another lad can’t have me, because as long as I’m not officially tied to you, then I do have a right to see someone else. As me and you were never married anyway. So there’s no official document to sign.

Not your kid

“My” ******,
It’s been a long time since I have seen you, or even, pathetically, anonymously, wrote to you. Yet you linger in my mind. I tried to put up boundaries, thinking you would fade away if I put a wall between us. But I have found that pacifying my curiosity brings me more closure than avoidance does.

I’ve learned that I have created a version of you that is nonexistent. Seeing your posts confirms that you are not the you that lives in my memories. You are flawed. You are human. Just as I am. You are not bad. You are not wrong. Just. Human. Giving in to natural human temptations while remaining the hero of your own tale. Just like me. Like everyone.

Now, with your account set to private I thought I could permanently shut the door I have left ajar all these years, but my curiosity only grows. The ideological, mythical and godlike version of you permeates my thoughts, while the real you likely posts things that would make me visibly cringe and bring me a sense of complacency in my life decisions.

Still, I wish the cringey, goofy, real you the world I couldn’t give. I wish I could fix the issues that lie between us and bring true resolve, but I burned the bridges. I can’t see how I could fix them, or why you would trust their fortitude even if I rebuilt them. The same way I couldn’t trust yours. And that is where reality lies. I want the best for you, and that couldn’t possibly be me.

I hope this brings me some reprieve. Perhaps that is selfish to say, but I need to refocus my life. If not, I will show up again to write to you, not out of desire, but out of necessity.

Despite it all, I still do love you and hope you have found what makes you happiest. Until next time,

“Your” ******

Good Bye

My life’s muse,
Here I am at 61 still acting like a love struck little boy, what a douche I am! Well kid it’s time to bury our dead and forget, yes forget. I will never know why I loved you or desired you so much, never! It just is so damn sad I was so deluded and wasted so much of my inner thoughts on you. I made you into a soulmate and made the second worst mistake of my life, thinking you had a soul. I don’t know if your just crisp from pounds of weed being ingested, completely dispassionate to others, seeking revenge against men for past hurts, so egotistical as to bat people around like a cat with a toy, or just plain stupid. Probably a combo of all above.
Now you can always fall back on the “I saw you as an old friend” line of shit but you played the game and like an asshole I fell for it again and again. Now all your weapons are gone, your old with absolutely no sex appeal AT ALL! HOW’S THAT TASTE? I’m moving on and we have accumulated enough to not worry about where or how we will live. We ain’t perfect but we do care about each other, something I would never have had with you. I’m really not sorry for your position as I know you deserve it, your a C-nt plain and simply a C-nt! Good bye bitch, the heart is free of you!

It’s beyond repair isn’t it?

Words cannot express

On one hand there’s the fear of who you really are, what you really meant, I’m afraid of you. I’m afraid of who you may have showed me you are and who we became, who I became

I can’t see how it could be fixed or how I’d even want to if that, that darkness is really who you are.

It’s so sad to find you are more than likely not who I thought you were. Nothing is what I thought it was then and I fear what I see it as now. So much fear. You could never have treated me like that if you cared. So long ago.

And in the passing of years you have shown nothing better than no remorse, and now I’m thinking of all that turned out to be maybe one lie after another. If I’m wrong how could you let it end without the much needed communication, the things I needed to understand.

There’s just a tiny whimper of hope left. I wish you’d do something to show me that hope is worth something, but I doubt you ever will. Its not dead but it’s dying.

I don’t think I’ll ever love again so passionately, I just wish I had have had that passion for someone else and never had met you.

Love is like a dying ember.