resentment rides high but emotions won't grow

a snappy comment here.

a retort there.

empty spaces in between. of nothing. of everything.
and finally. you give me what i need.

"you just don't get me."
funny. the thing that seemed to bring us together, is now the thing that tears us apart.
"be good," i say.
and you. so calm.... "you be good."
"i plan on it."

and here it comes, the kicker.
"being is better than planning."
you. setting the moral standard of the day. you. turn me upside down and inside out.

you.

this is just what i needed. at the moment, i don't hate you. So, i apologize. "i know i sometimes acted like a child. and i'm sorry for it."

here, you go. "don't be. it's in the past."

the past. sooner forgotten than relived. But, luckily, you just gave me exactly what i needed.

Closure.

I feel right. i feel good. and i'm done with you.

just because....

"An old man said to his grandchildren, 'Inside everyone are two fighting wolves. One wolf is generous and kind, but the other is deceitful and unkind.' One of the children asked his grandfather, 'Which wolf will win?' The old man replied, 'The one you feed.'"
— Native American proverb

get out of my dreams. and into my head.

You have, methodically, unattached the upper part of my head and pulled my brain out. A bloody mess, a bloody mess.
You hold it inbetween your hands and you're staring at it. (flashback to Gone with the Wind when Rhett clutches his hands over Scarlett's head).
Hold it up in different angles to examine every area.
Even hold it above you to get a clear view of the bottom. The blood drips all over you. You barely notice.
Blue-red. Blue-red.
Drip, drip, drip.
Don't even blink.
I, brainless, lean over to wipe the blood off your face.
Soooooooo romantic.
I look up. Follow your gaze. Try to see exactly what you're looking at.
You look over. At me.
You smile.
I smile. Brainless.
I touch the outeredges of my unattached head.
Dig inside. Archaeologist.
Space.
Empty, bloody space.
Brainless.
Get out of my head.

hand in glove.

Regret.
I understand you. I’ve never shunned you. And I feel you. Within every fiber of my being, I feel you.
Tickling the back of my brain. Cringe inducing. Feel you at the back of my throat. Wishing I could time travel.
Time travel. What an interesting conundrum.
And yet. This isn’t one of those times. It’s not regret. It’s not remorse. It’s shooting yourself in the foot. It’s sticking your foot in your mouth. Deep. It’s not learning when you’ve said enough.
It’s self realization.
But it’s not regret.
And I have regretted. I know it’s sting. I know the feeling. And you’re not it.

dead

I'm watching her closely. I can't take my eyes off of her. Where i once saw someone somewhat unintelligent, i now see someone who has gone through things i may never understand. Hope to never understand. A deeper insight.
You can't judge a book by its cover.
And she breaks down and cries. Short blond hair hitting her hands. And curse me. All i can think about is you. Here today. Gone tomorrow. I'm so selfish. So consumed within myself. I'm a fool. And its usually easy to forgive myself.
She's so sad. I wallow. Send a smile her way. Sympathy. Empathy. Which is which? My guilt consumes me. I feel so stupid. Words escape me.
And i can't help it.
I just want to fuck you. Death. They say its an aphrodisiac. Makes you appreciate life. Sick fucks. And my guilt , it still consumes me. I don't want anything to be left unsaid. But you don't want to hear it. You block me out.
A casket. A grave. Death is always lurking. And it consumes me, because we're both very much alive. And there's no excuse for this. Words, exit stage left. Curtain closes. End scene.

my brain is a well oiled machine. that never forgets.

i have the cunning ability to make you forget me. (or rather, forgive me.) and in intervals, you do forget me. forget my existence. forget what I'm like.
but not for long. it never falters.
it takes a smile. a comment. and my existence comes back all too soon. it stings you in the most absurd of places, like under your foot. where it won't kill you. but it'll drive you nuts. and then. I'm back.
but not for long.
and i don't blame you. I'd want to forget me, too. But only momentarily.
you swat at me. telling me to go away. only before you completely forget me. you're asking for more.
me and you. we'll never learn. and we'll keep trying to forget.

good memory is a bitch.

regression.

As a woman, I should know better. I should know that I'm not the cure all to your problems. I should know that you'll always be you. And no matter how charming or funny or beautiful you may think i am... that won't change you.

As a girl, with what now seems to be a beating heart, I can't help but be illogical. To think that what we have is different. That what we have is DIFFERENT. And that you'll realize that I really am that charming. And that you won't be able to live without me.

As a woman. I think with my head.
As a girl. The heart is the center of thought.

I can't meet in between. I'm purely a girl right now.