The heart wants what it wants.
And at the same time: I don’t want to take you away from anything good for you.
The reality is that I’m working poor here in Boston.
I have dreams and ambition, yes, but I don’t have the money to see them come true.
While I am working on that, if you’re living a comfortable life in Norway, like I imagine you are, sans my campaign of harassment, don’t leave.
Not that you even considered that.
Unless the voices in my head are telling the truth. That you’re a millionaire and your life in Boston is currently being set up by other agents/actors in my psychosis that I can’t name, because I that important to you, fine, join me then. Please.
I’m waiting for you and I am not waiting for you.
While I try to hate you my greatest emotion is to love you.
While I want to see you and speak to you I understand why you’d rather avoid me.
I feel like a contradiction.
I feel like I’m twisted and turning, my legs screwed on backwards while I try to march forward in my life.
This is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do: love and let go.
And I try, I felt like I had it all figured out and then psychosis happens and every other thought or sound is about a woman I’ll never see again.
A woman I may never have the chance to hold again.
A woman I will never have the privilege to love again.
Well, I’m loving you as I write: but that’s not what I mean.