I’m sacred that I’ll convince myself once more that I am wholeheartedly over you. I’m afraid I’ll fall into that abyss of denial and will never find my way back to you. I’m quick to guard my heart, which means if you tell me I’m single, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll share the most meaningless exchanges and inject as much meaning as I can for the other person. I’ll gain their affections, hoping their piqued interest will someway invigorate my attraction to them. Currently I’m playing this little game, I already have my first play in motion, and I’m afraid it is working all too easily. You see I’ve never really had trouble in this game, I just chose to never play it, cause it didn’t suit my style. Instead I played the waiting game. I’d observe the players that walked by, and if any looked particularly unique, then I’d prepare to play. They’d take note, and the games would begin. The only reason I ever participated is because when I waited, I had the opportunity to play an entirely different game altogether. I found that when you play with the best, you always have the most fun. I miss playing with the professionals, the rookies aren’t just cutting it. They don’t know how to make my heart skip a beat, or give me those nervous butterflies. Though maybe it is due to the fact that my heart’s just not in the game anymore. My body is, but even it wants to retract and discontinue what I’ve started. I have many options, but you’re the only one I love.
The other day, I looked in my mirror, and in the reflection, I saw a stranger. She looked at me with wide eyes, begging to be noticed, but I avoided eye contact. She made weird faces, bugging out her eyes, sticking out her tongue, forcing a smile, finally shedding tears in defeat. None of it worked. I looked at her, but not directly at her. I was scared, and she was sad. I had forgotten her in the mirror. Every time I step in front of that mirror, I look right past her. I don’t look, because I don’t recognize her anymore. I’m afraid that if I look too long, it will all become to real. I’ll finally take notice that I’ve heartlessly abandoned her for all these days. The fear that I’ll remember her. Who she was, her vibrancy, her enthusiasm for life, how I felt whole when I saw her in the mirror and could tell you her name. Every second she’s trapped in that mirror, I hear her cry. It’s quiet in efforts to not disturb anyone, yet I hear it all the time and it keeps me awake at night. She knows I hear her. I feel her presence beside me wherever I go. She and I used to be one, but now we’re two entirely different entities. She’s drowning in her tears, and I’m numb. She screams at me, in order to bring me back to reality. She makes a mess in every area of my life in order for me to see the destruction to bring me back, to make me aware. Yet I’ve lost all touch with reality. She knows that. That’s why she continues this seemingly pointless effort.
She’s the only one who knows, and she’s the only one who can bring me back.
My finger was seconds away from pulling the trigger. Standing in front of me was a figure I’ve come to know all too well. I felt inclined to end the existence of that form that stood before my eyes, but I hesitated. If I shot, the battle would cease and there would be no more uncertainty anymore. No more unanswered questions. No more undiscovered mysteries. The suffering would end, but so would the possibility of a happy ever after. It’s quite confusing as to how all those scenarios could be wrapped into one, but it’s a unique case I guess you could say. That figure embodies hope, but it also embodies despair. So when I waiver or consider ending it all, take a moment to envision yourself in my shoes. Know that this is torture. It’s prolonged heartbreak that seems to be never ending no matter what path I choose. Each path I see involves a new weapon, one that is far less lethal, but still inflicts harm, despite my efforts to maintain peace. I’ve come to the realization that no matter what, a wound, no matter how small, will come about from my actions. So I’m choosing a new weapon, not to purposely harm the figure, but to allow myself a release in order to feel again. I’ve set the gun down for now, because I’m not prepared to attend that funeral just yet.
At the moment I don’t feel all that well. My motivation is stifled because I’ve allowed myself to slip into a downward spiral of emotions. Earlier today I read about strange things our bodies do everyday, two of them were blink, and cry. In the mini article it talked about how crying was good for you. So I’m giving it a whirl. Maybe I can cleanse these odd emotions out with some tears. Now typically I would see these as happy tears if I were to be cleansing my emotions with a nice cry, but these aren’t happy tears… I feel a little alone at the moment… I know it may seem ridiculous to some and some may say we should all be able to find solace within ourselves, but for the time being I’m lacking that kind of strength. I can’t muster the courage to brave through it alone any longer. So as my own way of therapy, I’m going to write about one of the reasons as to why I’ve found myself in this lonely state.