sometimes it's impossible to hide myself from you,
other times,
i wonder if you really see me at all.
sometimes you can read me like a book,
and there's no hiding my discomfort from your searching eyes.
see also: doubt, longing, wonder, confusion.
i swing between proud of how i've managed to hide the real disaster you've made inside me,
and ashamed at how i've been lying to not only you, but myself too.
i swing between internal conflicts,
while you swing between hearts.
i hate the feeling i'm left with when the dial tone takes over,
taken for granted isn't the correct term,
but it's the first thing that comes to mind.
*
i love the color gray.
i love the fog and the mist when the world is shrouded in nothing but silver.
i wear gray more than mice,
more than the ashes left when the cinders have burnt themselves out.
why wouldn't i be comfortable in a gray area,
even if it comes to love?
but if there's something new i've learnt about myself...
it's that my love for gray only goes so far.
i don't want to be someones gray area;
see also: a phantom, a fog, a second choice.
burden isn't the correct term,
but it's the first thing that comes to mind.
*
"whatever you're feeling, remember it's mutual."
i think i believed that when you told me,
or maybe that was another lie to myself as well.
if i believed it then, i don't believe it now.
or maybe i do,
but i'm waiting for the truth of it to expire.
see also: forget, move on, lose interest.
i'm waiting for the day to come when my feelings exceed yours,
and yours recede into memories, into phantoms.
everyday i tell myself to fold, to pull my heart out of the gamble,
to recede into nothingness first.
pride isn't the correct term,
but it's the first thing that comes to mind.
*
if i were to throw all pretence of good writing habits out the window,
this message would boil down to thus:
i love you, with every part of me.
you've gotten deep into the heart of me,
and i carry thoughts of you with me, always.
but i hate it.
it fucking hurts, and it claws at me, the not knowingness of this.
the question marks, the gray, the ricocheting time lines of us.
it all sucks, and i try to bear it the best i can,
because love isn't all good shit,
it's a lot of bad shit,
and you take the bad with the good and that's life.
but this, this hurts more than anything before, truly.
and there's a constant hope inside of me that i can't help,
that i wish i could just turn off,
because hope is a sad word.
it indicates that all other possibilites have been exhausted.
and i don't want to wait or hope for someone, something else.
and i know you don't either.
but when something like this comes along,
it's hard not to want to do the things you never thought you would want to do;
like make hypothetical and stupid, annoying, heart breaking plans inside my mind.
it's hard to admit, but you have such a hold on me,
and that, for me, is painful in itself.
i told you once that you're an exception, that i don't like falling in love and it terrifies me.
and it really fucking does.
you're an exception in many ways, and you're incredibly special to me,
and that terrifies me, because i never allow myself to believe i'm special to anyone.
but here i am, and i know the smart thing to do would be to break bonds and burn bridges,
but i love you and i can't.
playing with fire isn't the correct term,
but it's the first thing that comes to mind.