I’m Jesting

Everywhere I go I am naked,

Vulnerable to the daggers others stare at me

I’m cold and hungry,

but I dare not ask for food

My pride is shattered,

my self image sacrificed for survival

Backflips for Pennies

A clown for others to mock at their own amusement

I’m nothing but a court jester

A punching back

A mirror that reflects what you wish to see

Everyone who looks at me sees someone different

Am I weak or strong?

Kind or cruel?

Selfless or selfish?

Everyone you ask will give you a different answer, but everyone’s answer is more important that my own

Nothing comes free

Being free comes at a cost

Unfortunately I cannot presume to afford the cost

So I dance, and dance, dance

Until my legs give out


I have this strong urge to weep bitterly and curse at the sky. To rage against the universe and moan about the unfairness of life. To shout how life is a game that is rigged against us, that we will never win. Being happy is a pipe dream and that just feeling ok is a feat in itself.

I imagine a dark stormy night at sea. With only a small lighthouse displayed in the the dreary distance. The waves roaring against the shore in a unanimous show of unrest. Every wave working in unison to work against the shore, and the shore standing tall, rolling with every crash because it has no other choice. The tension of witnessing an immovable object in its struggle against unstoppable force throughout the treacherous night until morning arrives, the crashing waves settling to a gentle tide. The storm nothing but a distant dream, leaving those to wonder if the storm happened at all, or maybe it wasn’t as terrifying as they initially thought, doubting what they saw with their own eyes and pushing the thought away just to enjoy the momentary bliss that has befallen them. Yet they know deep down that it was as treacherous as they recalled, and that it will happen again. So the peace that they crave so earnestly can never be truly felt because they will never know when the storm may come again.

I have a rock in my chest.

A twisted knot.

A lump in my throat.

An impending sense that everything is going to come crashing down.

A weighted blanket of unease that’s grey and consuming.

Shadows that follow me and whisper what I don’t want to hear.

My senses feel dull and unclear.

I check my surroundings hoping that no one notices me but also wishing for a helping hand.

Silently begging for someone to understand.

But no one is perfect, everyone fucks up.

And I’m tired of it.

Remnants of Berlin

I’m lying to you. I’ve lied to you ever since things fell apart. I always lied to you about my feelings. Telling you I’m ok when I’m not. Telling you it’s not your fault when it is. Telling you I don’t hate you when I do. I guess I must not hate you because despite my feelings, I comfort you. I keep lying to you even though it kills me inside.

You say you’re sorry and feel remorse. You do and say all the things I wish you would have back when it would have made a difference. Now it’s all too late. It’s funny, despite all the damage you know you’ve done to me, the pain you’ve caused, and the guilt you feel, you still put yourself first. You touch me me when you know I don’t want it. I tell you no over and over again. I do everything except slap you and scream rape.

I still feel guilty that you hate yourself because of what you did to me. I must still love you because even though I hate you and I am angry at you, I still want the best for you. I don’t want you to worry about how I feel and just focus on yourself. I don’t want you to feel guilty, despite it all. I just let you use me and hurt me over and over again. I don’t want you to ever uncover the truth of my feelings because I don’t want you to hurt anymore than you already do.

So why can’t you for once extend me that same courtesy and respect my wishes? All the progress I made is gone when you’re around. I just feel like a victim because even though you’re sorry, you’re still the same. All this pushiness, only caring that you want sex even though I made it clear I didn’t. You still put yourself first, I despise that. After you’re gone I’m not going to be ok. How many times have I had to rebuild myself again? I just wish it would stop. I was just starting to feel alright again before you came.

I hate you, I hate you so much. I have to start over.

Love Addict

I love you the way a heroin addict loves getting high.

Honestly, what I’m feeling probably doesn’t even equate to love. Yes, I get weak in the knees at the slightest touch. A single word from you will plaster a dumb smile on my face and the thought of you gives me butterflies from the bottom of my stomach. But that’s not really love. That’s just the chemicals in my brain pumping dopamine whenever you come up. It’s an addiction, and when you’re gone, I suffer from the withdrawal symptoms. I feel empty, the world starts to lack color, I feel miserable, and I crave you constantly.

Now I am at that stage where I love you, but I am already disillusioned with you. I realize that you’re more than just a drug to me, you are poison. I love you but I wish I never met you. You bring out the worst in me, I’ve begun to act and feel in ways I would have never imagined in the past. I love you so much I lowered my standards to tolerate your behavior. It’s hard to stay in the puppy love phase when you’ve made it so blatantly obvious how you feel about me.

I know that I am not a priority to you

I know that I am a distraction for you

I know that I am just a body to keep your bed warm

You don’t see me, you don’t know me, and you don’t think about me.

Yet I love you. I wish that I didn’t because you never deserved my love in the first place. I never asked to feel this way about you. I feel like an addict that wants to quit, hating themselves for being unable to and then keeps getting high again.

I know you’re bad for me. I know you’re a poison that is slowly killing me inside. I want to quit you so badly, but I cannot bring myself to do it. I lost you before, the withdrawal symptoms were almost unbearable. The mere thought of you would crush me and I thought about you constantly. Everything reminded me of you. I did everything in my power to erase you and I couldn’t. It took three weeks for me to finally decide to truly let go of you. It was the first time I felt the ability to heal and move on, but then you reached out to me and I relapsed.

I wanted you to want me. I wanted to possess you and for you to fee the way about me the way I do about you. But I recognized that this will never happen. Your actions have made it blatantly obvious what I am to you. They say things are not black and white, but to me this is.

If he really loved me, he would think about me. If he thought about me, he would reach out to me more. If he wanted to be with me then he would just do it. There is no grey area. You either love someone or you don’t, and if you really loved a person you would show it. You don’t ignore a person who you love. He only ever consistently messaged me when he wanted something from me. In person, we didn’t even talk much. He doesn’t want to get to know me. He doesn’t care about me. It’s painfully obvious my feelings grossly outweigh his. There are no rose-colored glasses. There are no excuses. I see this “relationship” exactly for what it is and yet I still choose to endure it. I am miserable more than I am happy, but when I am happy I am so unbelievably happy that I tolerate being miserable the majority of time just for those brief moments.

He was the spark that ignited my soul. He was connected to everything that I loved. He hooked me in the very beginning by seeming to be enamored with me. It was his intellect, the things he would talk about. I was smitten with the fact that we met at a coffee shop, walked around the park and pontificated over books at a bookstore. He talked about philosophy and religion with me, nothing anyone has done before. I never connected with a man with shared interests like that before. I realize now that I created a fantasy man. I loved the idea of him, not the man himself. The man I interact with now is not that man I remember originally falling for. They wear the same face, but everything else is different. Gone is the man I spent hours talking with, who hung onto my every word. What initially attracted me to him is now gone. Although people are far more complex than that. I am sure he’s still the intellectual person I initially met, I just realize I will rarely if ever see that side to him anymore. Because all I am now is just someone to keep his bed warm.

I wish I knew what he was thinking.

I wish he thought about me.

I wish he loved me the way I needed to be loved.

I wish I was a priority to him.

I wish I wasn’t the only one feeling this way.

I wish I could just quit him.

I wish I never met him.

Plagued by You

I cannot escape these feelings

I stare at the ceiling

The stabbing pain that once left me reeling has now subsided to a dull ache

The last reminder of my terrible mistake

I try to escape the thought of you

But your presence haunts my dreams

My mind refuses to let you go, it’s obscene

In my dreams you speak empty honeyed words

You make empty grand promises

And you look at my with your empty lying eyes

That feign sincerity, a cunning disguise

The false sense of security provides me only temporary relief

My heart still craves it’s comfort, no matter how brief

The only thing I despise more than you is myself for believing what you said is true

I wish I could understand why I am the only one to suffer

Is this all supposed to make me tougher?

How can I complain when I know others who have had it rougher

The more I think the less I feel

The less I feel the slower I heal

I just wish this isn’t real

And I’m tearing at the seams

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