I take in new connections like I fucking breathe. The importance of how it all meant to me is trivial at most now. We all know people have hard shells, but when the doors are closed we still have to deal with the choices we make. And you can play the hard candy card every day of the fucking week but at 3am sober or drunk you have to look at all of that eye to eye. Brow to brow. And no amount of “like farming selfies” is going to stack up high enough to stand behind.
Oh and I am such a follower of the glamoured and pretty but when choices chip away at the diamond that you believed you were, then it’s the rough that you ultimately become. And I so adored you, and I wish that whomever that was – for whatever reasons, why things changed in lieu of them being repaired, that what made it right for me to bury my face in the aftermath of stripping away every layer that was painted while having to be wired to a wall and just watch it all fall down at the same time, makes me devoid of every detail that defined what we were. And that creates a very saddening grimoire because you were the fight I believed worth fighting.
I wish I would have not given a shit. I wish I could have tossed you to the pyre, I wish that I was even capable of switching things off with a fucking click. I am surrounded by personalities who constantly reuse manufactured emotions to make themselves feel better, or generally re write their own narrative to fill in the deficiencies as they see fit. But some people are absolutely fucking delusional if you really believe that anyone thinks that narrative, your narrative is always one worth re telling.
I ask you to sit in this hailstorm. I ask you to turn your back and tell me that you feel absolutely nothing. That being nailed to the floor with every piece of the veil of superficial vanity that you keep grasping on to, is going to be enough. I fucking hope it is.
I remember when you said “Don’t worry, if I ever left you I would give you the respect to drive to your place and break things off to you face to face.” False. In fact very false. Thank you for that. Because it was that frail statement that I trusted, with every bit of my guard down, every piece of vulnerability exposed, and you obtusely strangled the fragments of what had been protected for the last, fucking, eight years. How someone does that, wakes up, walks on, and shrugs it off like it was dryer lint, blindly never looking back, is what makes you the monster. Whom I lost to, someone that was literally the sound in the center of my chest..again, gone.
I was wrong, I was the fool. I will not do this again.
Sehnsucht (n.) “the inconsolable longing in the human heart for we know not what”; a high degree of intense, recurring, and often painful desire for something, particularly if there’s no hope to attain the desired or when its attainment is uncertain, still far away.