To understand the feeling you put them into strings of color that flow out of you in sentences and rhymes. Being able to express the jumble of spaghetti brings me relief.
Here I sit, in the living room of my childhood, listening to my mom busy herself with helping other people. I am not proud of what has happened, I fear he was right in one sense. That I just go back because I don't know where else to go, That I don't want him with other people so I tie him to a stick and chip at him with my attempts at feeling until he is worn down to his core and must leave or sacrifice his identity and self worth.
I didn't mean for things to be like this, but He is now empty. He says I need you to be there for me when I am not there, like I have been for you. But Im trying to fill his heart that has holes now with all the water I can gather. But It falls through and my arms are empty, and we are both blankly staring at what had happened to his heart, in awe, and horror.
There is no way I can stay in this, hurting him endlessly. He will be glad to go this time. He has many prospects in his new place, and has a million people who will patch up the holes that my heart couldn't. In the end maybe he will be better for it, I blindly hope so. But I feel guilty for crushing his dreams and for him believing I was stringing him along. I don't think we should live like this, and I can not commit to a life like this.
I love being close to him, but I feel like he has changed, and perhaps that was because of me, but it feels cold and I try to warm him up but its fruitless and I loose hope too. Without trust we are nothing. There is no progression, and he blatantly said that we don't have it. which felt like a finger pointed at me. You have done this it screams, and I shudder but stand to take the arrow, because I believe it was me, and I believe I deserve the blame.
