Am I high maintenance?

I am tough to be in a romantic relationship with, I think. If I know where I stand, have affection from my partner, and we have communication every day then I’m OK. Probably even good. On some days great.

But if I don’t know where I stand, then I’m always seeking information to get to that information. Which means weird questions and anxiety.

If we don’t communicate every day for more than a single exchange, I begin to accrue anxiety and eventually spiral into a full blown spinout and possible depression.

Cold language or cold treatment can seem to be lack of affection. And it almost always means there is a problem. Maybe not with the relationship but with life or whatever.
This leads me to believe that I am not trusted. And cue eventual anxiety and depression.

I feel like this makes me high maintenance. Or be perceived as high maintenance.

Anxiety and depression reactions are not ideal consequences but they are things that can be alleviated by my partner just being there. In that state I don’t need solutions, I just need presence.

Those things seem like things things anyone would want?
Am I asking for too much?
Those seem like normal things to want.

Another bullshit breakdown

All I have right now is this violent dark soul sucking need to connect

To be seen, to be known
And I could go out and spread my bleak nihilism
Drown in physical desires
Give in
And wake empty

Each night more empty than the last
Each touch just a step away from oblivion
But it’s not what I want
Is it

I want that lasting connection
These touch memories linger with me forever
Burning my mind and fill me with yearning
They seem to be so vital
But the night ends
And what is left but the annihilation of self
In the persuit of nothing

I’m tired of fighting for substance and coming up short
I’m tired of finding people who are vital and pushing them away with the raw need that pours out

Don’t try so hard, be yourself. Which fucking one? I’m only comfortable when I know chapter and verse, when I know specifically where we stand and how likely something more, always more, is. Do I just accept that it’s zero?

As fear and anxiety eat away at my calm, as the reality of being alone sets fucking in. Don’t be desperate. I’m fucking drowning, how the fuck else am I supposed to to feel?

Be yourself? My self is a fucking high strung artist who fucked up his past, and doesn’t see a clear way to a viable future. That’s fucking sexy that is.

And truth, just be honest. What percent honest can you fucking handle? Cause no one wants a hundred percent.

Fuck, fuck! FUCK!

I’m just screaming into the void and hoping it matters

Nightmares

When the nightmares begin
I’m your one and only sin
Dream with me, I’m all in

Love is not for the faint of heart
I tell you this from the start
It’s so hard we often fall apart

But I tell you that when the nightmares begin
I’m your one and only sin
Dream with me, I’m all in

I’m not walking away
I’ll be here till my dying day
I’ll be the one who stays

And when the nightmares begin
I’m your one and only sin
Dream with me, I’m all in

Dream with me, I’m all in

Anxiety in the time of seeking

I didn’t used to be this person. This person who has this anxiety everytime someone I love even the littlest bit draws away from me. Rationally, they have valid logical and emotional reasons. I understand them and accept them. But it still leaves me with this crushing sense of failure and fear. This thought that I could have said something or did something and that would have made the difference. The thought that I held something back or said too much and that’s why it was so easy(in my mind) for them to walk away. I keep trying and failing and trying and failing. And even when it’s not over, just in a holding pattern, there is this crushed heart feeling. This immense weight and pain that just goes on and on. It gets better. It goes away. Usually just in time for another relationship to start.

The pain is mostly my fault. I fall in love so easily. I see some shining beautiful piece of personality and I fall a little bit. Like holding on to a rope and slipping a bit down it. Scary and exhilarating. And we start the dance and I fall deeper and deeper until, when it ends, I am so deep in, I cannot see the night sky.

Further down the rabbit hole

Anxiety weaves about
Circles
Wheels
Revealing weakness

Weakness I’d rather you not deal with
You’ve seen it before
But this feels different

Or I’m jumping at shadows
Is it insight or fear
I don’t know which

All I know is everything stops spinning
When you say Sir

Others have said it
And it was nice

But they are playing
You say it differently
And that makes all the difference

Strength bleeds backwards

There was a time before blood and bind
Before dance and bone
Where reverie wakes
And sky’s do groan

So lonesome
in the endless expanse
Made merry
Give chase

But burn back blades
Fire whips it’s frenzy
All control lost and only
In its absence noted

Shout surrender
Heart pounding
Straining for one last beat
one last hush of blood

Fear permeates
The quiet unsaid
Leaving potential lies
To churn out stomach lining

Waiting for the pustulmelous fragility to burst
Lost in thoughts that won’t cease
And the hardship that comes

Knowing your thoughts
Knowing that you are past bearing
That some words should never be uttered

And the only shelter
Is the arms of silence

Spent casing memories

Spent casing memories
Softly raining down to the wet earth
A thousand rounds per minute
Trying to overwhelm
Hard fought equilibrium

Easier to push them aside until I can’t move, waste deep in wasted ammunition
These rounds fall faster
Burying me neck deep
The smell of gunpowder and lingering cosmoline

Drowning in this bullet hell
Thoughts flying
Keeping me from you

Do I make missteps in my ardor for you?

 I feel that I must. Like I am making mistakes but that, perhaps, you forgive them silently. Do I say ‘I love you’ too often? I feel like, at once, I say it too much and that it can never be enough.

I wonder if I send you too many missives? I do send several a day, most days. I don’t want to wait to write it all and send it all at once, but rather send when my thoughts are freshest. But I know, maybe, it is exasperating.

I think I must be tiresome to deal with. Am I? To have someone constantly sending you little notes and posting things and just all of it.

I dislike feeling like I am being burdensome. And even writing this, I can’t tell if I need reassuring or if I want information. But either way, it feels like…I don’t think weakness is the right word. But something close. Like I can’t hold my own or something. Which I know isn’t true, but feelings care so little for knowings, sometimes.