Wednesday, July 27, 2011

furrow [part 2 maybe]

i have no idea what i am doing here. my eyes touch over things and quickly pass on.
i step back even a foot and think shit what the fuck is going on, i must be crazy.
but we're standing face to face promising each other that this isn't what it look like, hands up palms out trying to prove our sincerity while still hiding behind sarcasm and defense mechanisms. the question hangs heavy: what are we? and i don't have an answer, i would prefer we were nothing. simple flesh and blood beings in a state of existence, in close proximity.
hah. right.
anxiety, paranoia, all the wonderful emotions that wreck you when you have something bright in your eyes rolls over me in waves.
all i want in this world is something that i can have, just for a moment, that wont crash and burn explode in flames die in my arms.
i want to keep something when it feels like everything has slipped away.
lately i'm walking head up again, engaging people at work, laughing and dyeing my hair.
but its all a wonderful show, a type of game i've created, to see how much i can forget by focusing on this smile i've been putting out. smile stephanie, big. the people at work tell me i'm happy, calm, nice. inside i'm raging sometimes, crying all the time, wondering why i get out of bed at all. the depression lingers but is made sweeter and a touch delightful by the secrecy and intimacy.
no ones wants to know the other me, not anymore. i've run out of time for sugar coating and gentle whispers.
back to this though.
i'm tired of men. so tired. the interaction- burning passion in the beginning, tearing at each other, needing and seeking and warm only for it all to turn to turn cold in time. nothing like the smoldering growing love and friendship i read about in books, see in movies. i'm so tired. i've already been robbed of my womanly abilities, the rest seems ridiculous now.
i'm so bitter. lost.
so what am i doing here?
i want him to stay arms length, just far enough to hear me talk. just close enough to smell my hair and skin and want me. i need him to want me. as much as i don't want him to love me, i want him to still want me.
it doesn't make sense i know.
but its not one sided.
all his hurt i want to feed on it, i want his stories to come to my ears too, i want to keep him to myself.
it is nothing short of ridiculous.

i have to stop thinking about it and just go with it.
it never works. but the few delicious moments it does seem worth it.
touch now, fall apart later. i have been through it enough to know ill survive at least.

sigh. unfinished thoughts.

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