i am saying now, this is it.

it is done.

p.s.

pressure release. you will deal. (un)do it yourself.

that's the reason

why is it that when i genuinely think i am ok, i still get tears welling after my friend puts his hand on my head and then walks away? or when my lover chooses to go somewhere else tonight, even if it is good for them? as i am comfortable and surrounded by familiarity and brisk hills air, i am so full of sorrow. his lyrics catch me every time, when i cannot pull them out from behind my own jaws he finds them hidden behind his medulla oblongata and screams that shit out.

and maybe revel; ations

i wipe my nose and hold my breath for a moment

tape unravels, and wire bends

i know it (, carry on?)

it's as you go to leave, as you actually leave

as i hang up the phone or as you exceed me -

you may see otherwise but these eyes are mine.

i like it when there's air, it mixes well with my tears

when things end

i have such minimal control and the anxiety wells up parallel

i hate it when i have to hide

beneath your cerebellum behind your holy teeth

it might just be hell to me

o.k.

and known again. before the cogs in the wall ticked over or the millions of bubbling explanations arose, it was already known. and the knowledge pushed it there, what irony O what a cruel twist of fate ye might say. but you don't. because it's just what happens. and so we do





he's sleeping in my bed. my bed smells like him. i am in the loungeroom, it is so cold in here. support networks are dwindling and disappearing, and that is what happens - and so we do. work to be done. no time to waste. fall over, be demon prey, fight or run like hell or just stand there prostrate waiting for it to alllllll come a-crashing down. do what you will. do.

wunts ah ghenn

and you know. what do you know? knowing what needs to be done, having known for so long now and still having pushed myself back, fear, darkness. it takes hold and it is even stronger now. this is what happens. pay attention, you already have. you can, you will, you have no other choice. resolve is being smelted down and re-molded, it must not have weaknesses this time. it can't.
physical. breathe, smell, see, get unstuck. it is not happiness. it is happiness' just-shed skin. she left a while back and you know it. you deserve better. we all do. you are on fire and under the ground and drowning and your head is so far off into the clouds that they are starting to look solid even as you push your skull through the rain.

practicality. get it done. you will find a way, you will just do. you must. these words cannot be unmade. nor can the last, or the ones before that. thoughts can be ignored, but they cannot be unmade either. not me it's you, not you it's me, not not it's not. neither. this is just how the cookie crumbles, so let's deal with it and be strong and know what is best for us and just let this go.

i t i s so good to feel the shudder of his blood pumping through his body, the sheer force of it makes the bed move oh so slightly. and he breathes.

softly, now

i tell myself instead of being myself

i need you to tell me
that i'm wrong

and what sort of psychologically twisted statement is that?
"It doesn't matter what i say so fuck it. You keep talking about how unstable you are and how upset this has made you and how i am the only one who can help it. Well your emotions are not my reponsibility. They are YOURS. If you feel like shit, find a way to make it better. But don't just call me up to tell me how hard i have made it for you. I love you so fucking much and i can feel how angry and deeply sad you are and it hurts me because i want you to be happy but I CAN'T DO IT FOR YOU. God fucking knows i've tried. And so my heart is breaking every day but the more we try to communicate the more we argue and just make it worse. I am exhausted."

doesn't take much to rip us into pieces...

and i hate and i hate and i hate and i hate and i can't handle this sort of bullshit any more. it spills from my mouth and into your eyes and then from your throat into my stomach. it just keep coming in all forms in vomit and bile and motherfucking rose petals and wires and black indian ink and snow and vegetables and pieces of lint. and my brain, my poor poor brain, just implodes incessantly. repeating the same tones and structures the same detachment the same fear the same sadness and meter and downcast self-deprecating retorts as if that will resolve anything.

i want to be done with it. i can't give him the love he needs because without allowing it in himself he will never get it. from anyone. let alone me.

i will see him. i will tell him that i love him but cannot be with him at this point in time. our communication is beyond the point of repair, our emotional attachment to each other is unhealthy and needs to be rectified. there is no point in trying to change yourself for someone else. you should only edit things about yourself if it will benefit YOU personally. any further than that is not your responsibility. this does not mean 'don't give a fuck about what others feel' - it's quite the opposite. be compassionate, be loving - but do not try to carry other people's emotional burdens because when you finally hand it back to them saying "my back is breaking" then they feel betrayed and put out because, what do you know, their wellbeing becomes their responsibility again and they haven't built up any muscle to carry it themselves.

rant. yeah, well it's who i am. and if you want to know, ask. but after you have asked don't forget to listen.

no more justification of my actions.
no more defensiveness (apart from that which is completely necessary)
no more weakness. she is here. my dreams are slippery and translucent but they are there. i am here.