Set back after setback

There is a point where I can feel you letting me go and I scrabble for purchase but I can’t quite hold on to you. And I say you like you are the only one to do this but I have become so familiar with this that I can feel it happening. I feel you slipping away from me and I don’t know how to hold on to you and I don’t know if there is something I’m not saying that keeps you walking away. This isn’t a novel. I don’t know the words to say that tells you to stay. I don’t know the action to take that convinces you. If I did, I would have said it, done it. But you, you, you. It’s each person who has drifted away from me. What am I doing or not doing that causes or contributes to this? Maybe I seem fun and simple but then you get to know me and I’m complex, maybe you are good with that too, then I hit a day of too little sleep and too much stress and all my emotions start racing around and I bottle it up, trying to hold it together and you ask what’s wrong, not taking my honesty pledge seriously enough, and I say everything that is eating at me and it’s like standing in front of a sandblaster. And I’m immediately regretful and I try to put us back together but now I don’t have anything to stand on but this quicksand because I know I fucked up but feel like I didn’t. That this maelstrom is a part of me, and I have to work with yours, why don’t you have to work with mine. I’m not uncomplicated, not simple, not easy. I don’t know how to get you from the slow crawl of beginning to nestled close to my heart. I don’t know how we can get there. And I am so tired of trying and failing. The people that love me but not romantically say that a person is out there, but that’s not what I feel. I feel like my person is gone, she’s not coming back. I feel like I acted with care and love and it wasn’t enough. Each time it’s not enough. I keep trying, because that’s what I am built for but, each time, it’s like a new stab wound. My heart reels back trying to heal and my mind tries to figure out what the misstep was. It never ends.

Emotional shotgun: Poetry edition

Why follow me

Lead through the mists of my own dissolution, disillusion
Lost in the loves I can’t quite reach
The ones never quite enough

Like a pincushion of blades
Each support the other
Pull one to watch me fall apart

Watch me as I eat my feelings
All to keep me from buying that shotgun
And finally going through with silent plans

Follow me?
I can only lead you to dark places
Where cries and screaming, sobs
Break the too still silence

And that’s on a good day
When planning fails to give way to plotting
It’s not a solution, but it is, isn’t it

When you believe in a afterlife and you won’t be judged for walking away
It’s the peace of not being

But I have my fear to keep me here
My fear that I am seconds from finding her or him and I just need to stick it out

They say you have to love yourself first, well I like myself, love maybe but here’s the thing about they say

THEY don’t know shit
Time heals all wounds? Bullshit spouted by the delusional and the optimistic that have never been wounded deeply.

There’s someone for everyone? What if my someone is dead or speaks Mandarin and lives in rural China? Bullshit

It’s a cakewalk of platitudes when you’re looking for answers
Or maybe just a place to lay your head
And a hand to hold, lips to kiss
And words to say

Emotional shotgun: October edition

I dislike the advice to stop looking for love. Work on your self and it will find you.
Bullshit.

I have been working on my self, consciously, since I was 12. I have a good grasp on who I am and what I want. I’ve had and lost love. I find connection, in one case profound connection, with many people. And they are with someone else, or they pick me up then drop me like a rock they’ve grown bored with, or that’s not what they want/I’m not what they want. And on and on. And platitudes are useless. They are what you say when you have nothing real to say.

I’m just drained and tired of finding and loving and losing. I’m tired of being lonely. Of not being with, even just holding the hand of any of the people I love.

And I wish I could say tomorrow will be better or different but, really, will it? I’m sick of looking to tomorrow. Waiting for the right time is worthless. There is no right time. There is only now. But again and again I brave the depths and each time I’m crushed by them.

And this all just so complicated. To love people who have left, to love people you can’t be with, to love people you can speak with but never touch, to love people who don’t want romantic love with you. It’s all just this endless ball of scream.

Emotional shotgun – In love edition

I want more time, more words, more connection, more touches, more teeth, more nails, more kisses, more sex, more sharing, more, more, more.

It makes me seem greedy or needy. It makes me seem mad. It makes me seem unreasonable. I seem, seem, seem.

What I’m really asking is will you stay? Are you mine? Am I yours? I’m here for the distance but my insecurities drive people away. I’m looking for yes. I’m looking for, of course. I know it is needy and I hate feeling this way. I hate needing that reassurance. I’m so used to standing alone but I crave to stand together. With you it feels so present, so now and I can’t seem to be, just be without a word, just a word. And I hate asking and I hate being this mess. I want to be a pillar of strength at your side. But I need that reassurance not because it’s new but because I don’t take it for granted. And that’s odd and that’s weird. But it’s me. And I’m spinning out not from depression but from stress. I want to make it all better but I don’t have the tools or the words and I keep fumbling about looking for the right words and I just want to hold you and not need to say anything

Emotional shotgun part eleventy seven

I’m Staring at a blank page. I’m Staring at it and my mind is all jumbled up. I’m feeling very insecure and needy. Which I know isn’t attractive generally. I don’t know where I stand with her. It’s both too new and I feel like I’ve known her forever. And I want to hold her hand and do goofy things like skip and sing little songs about nothing. But it’s long distance, and I can’t do any of that. And she likes my writing and what I write is the core of who I am and how I think but she hasn’t seen my knowing smile or my sardonic grin, and I haven’t seen her laugh or drink a glass of wine. And my brain won’t stop asking questions and I’m both elated and terrified because I generally live like there is nothing to lose because without love there isn’t but now I catch myself doing things as if I have nothing to lose but what I have to lose is another word or turn of phrase from her and I wish I could just hold her to feel her as real but I’m busy here drowning in this maelstrom of wants and fears and I want nothing more than her. But am I crazy and this is all too much? It’s like a pit opening up and I know its there and I just can’t stop. FUCK! Brain just calm down, be quiet!… but it swirls and swirls, piranhas in a kiddy pool.