Wednesday, 22 February 2012

It's all just water in the gas tank.

Flawed from the start, this day has been a write off. From waking up angry, to the car not starting, to vengeful voice mails, to people not knowing their place. I'm lost, confused and don't know what to think. We try and talk, but the words that cut like a knife have done their damage. Open wounds that will become scars. Permanent scars.

It's difficult to write, I don't want to think about this, but I need to express it in some form. We almost had the opportunity to talk. For me to open up, but that chance is soon lost.

You understand how hurt I am, how deep these words cut me. You know how broken it makes me. You know how everything I have ever striven for, was to have someone proud of me. To seek the approval of the one man who gives me my identity. And with a mixture of what I'm assuming Rickards Red, Gin, and wine, it was stripped all away. Everything I have ever worked for, is no more. Reduced to nothing. A pile of ash, reminders of what once was.

The only thing I can rely on is you. You promised not to make me regret loving you, and those words, are the most important words. The only thing that is holding me together.

I;m not writing like I used to. I can't form words, or sentences. Not with beauty that I used to. I am unsure if its the pain of previous words, others that are creeping in on my turf more and more, the exhaustion of being haunted all night by dreams far worse than I've ever had, or the realization, that those words held truth.

Fuck this. Fuck everything. I need you, and I hope I can be enough for you. I hope I can prove him wrong. If not about everything, this one thing. I hope I don't let you down. I hope you don't leave.
I'm sorry. For who I am. For who I was. For the fact that I can't let this go. I can't let it go, because I need someone, to be proud of me. I wish you were proud of me, but I fear that I'm never going to be good enough. On our second day together, I told you the only thing I want in life, is to be told by someone I love, that they're proud of me. To be said with conviction and truth. With honor. With love. With respect.

My mind is scattered. So I sit here, rubbing your feet, feeling your toes. I hope you love me as much as I love you.

I'm sorry for all of this.
I'm sorry for who I am.
I am trying.
To be better.
To be everything you've wanted.
Everything you've needed.
Your vodka cranberry...
I love you.

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