I did myself a disservice by succumbing to my madness.
The voices go on and on about how you’d rather be dead, rather consume feces, rather be anything and everything as long as it doesn’t have anything to do with me.
So be it!
I don’t know, and I’m not certain I can or will ever know, but I have to hold onto the sanity I do have, in order to continue being a part of society, in order to fulfill my responsibilities, in order to live a life I can determine with my own hands.
That’s it.
Take you out of the equation and I still have work to do.
That never changed, time waits for no one.
Still my heart of hearts, and the heart in the deepest pocket of my subconscious mind, calls out to you, fully ablaze, beating, throbbing, undulating, for what feels to have been an eternity now.
I don’t know if you just can’t understand my predicament, or choose not to, still, I persevere, in my mind, I have no other choice.
My only other options are to be in a hospital for the rest of my life, dead, or in jail, because I believe what the voices are saying not just about you, but about myself as well.
The bad ending.
[your name] this has been a roller coaster.
I know I have strong feelings for you but now, as rationality seems to have anchored somewhere in these feelings maybe I do believe you’re a different person, and the person you are now is not someone I know I love, or have loved.
That feels like a fucking cop-out, because I know I can extend kindness and charity to you too, if you’d let me.
You’ve made it clear that you won’t, and time and time again, over and over again I have to confront that steel wall you have built between us.
Fine.
I don’t know what else to add or say, you called me “Superman” and I feel like smashing through that wall as much as respecting it, but writing my own graffiti on my side of the wall (this blog) as a monument of what you meant and mean to me.
Somehow I still find new words to say to you.
Somehow I still wonder why you don’t love me back.
Was it special in any way to you?
Will you ever return my call?
ess muss sein, muss essen sein, I suppose.