I wish you loved me.

I wish, we could once and for all fix this.

I wish, we weren't flying closer to the sun, ready to be burned.

I wish, you had as much hope, passion and desire for this relationship that I have.

I'm not willing to give up.

Ever.

But it seems like you are...

The Human Centipede

You want me to write, so I will write. Straight out of a Clint Eastwood  movie, I'll write the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. I question where this motivation and desire comes from. I wonder, is this because you don't feel loved? You need to read my words of affirmation, just like I need the touch your touch? I hope not, because if that's the case, everything I've done, every time I've put you first, put your needs above my own, have been in vain. I sincerely hope not, because part of my issue is not feeling appreciated, and wanted, and this would confirm it.

I need you to rely on me. Just the way I rely on you. Part of the reason why I was so offended during the unlocking of your keys. I drove to you in your time of need. Attempting my best to achieve success, driving to Ryan's to pick up keys, driving all over town. All of this seemed to be worthless. As if I was just means to an end. The minute we're back, you take the keys and attempt to unlock yourself. Then you again attempt yourself to unlock the trunk - you're successful. I feel like a failure. No appreciation comes my way, no gratitude for my part. This is your victory, and yours alone. This strikes a deep fear, that I'm not good enough for you and that you don't need me.

Maybe I'm just over analyzing everything. Desperate for answers, I'm continually searching for the root of all of this. Hoping that there's one, that we can shed light and ultimately conquer this once and for all. I want us, to become us again. I want to be wanted. I want desire, lust, love and passion. I want you to want to show me off. You told me a week ago you'd put me back into your facebook profile picture, and as little and stupid as this gesture is, to me, it tells me you don't care who knows who I am. You're proud to show me off. I miss the days that you posted that you had the best boyfriend.

I love you, and I love us. You laugh, and out comes a fart. This makes us both laugh even more. I chuckle at the cuteness of this. Your face starts to go red with embarrassment, but then stops. You give me a look that says "get over it, it's nothing you haven't heard before." In the face of all this conflict, it takes a small bodily function to break the train of thought, and remind me that we're simply both human. Flawed from the start, but  fighting to change that.  Maybe that's it. Maybe there is no final solution to this bullshit. Maybe life is about dealing with shit, one day at a time, and making memories in the meantime. I love you, and that's never going to change. Whether you're grumpy for no good reason, kissing my neck while I do dishes, or guessing poorly drawn trolls by yours truly. I'm yours that is never going to change. Will you be mine? Will you choose day in, day out to put up with my shitty drawings, insecurities, and rock hard ass? I hope so.

I don't even know if you read this. The last time I wrote, we had sex the next morning. Was that a result of what you read? Or did you actually want me? I've told you before that I've continued to write. Just never publishing. Now that I'm making this available, will these words fall on deaf ears, or I suppose eyes?

You're beautiful. You are. I hope you know that. I'm here for you. Always.

The President's Choice

I sit with this page open for hours, willing to write, but unable to. I wonder what is keeping me from expressing the honesty within, which has flowed numerous times before. I wonder if it's fear that's holding me back. Afraid, if I open these flood gates, the damage it does to the village below will be irreplaceable. No, not it. I know me. I don't lie to myself. There is nothing hidden that hasn't been said. Both Ryan and Megan know all the details, everything is out in the open. Maybe I'm afraid of reality. I get lost in The Unit, and drink for the second night in a row.

I rack my brain constantly. As if there is some solution to this anxiety, anger, depression and loneliness that I haven't yet found. We've had the same arguments, conversations and apologies over and over again. The never ending circle, that is slowly wearing at our relationship. I'm fighting the clock, the longer this goes on, the more and more tired we become of this, and I pray we don't get to the point where one of us do something that we regret. Something that will be the death of us. We've talked and discussed the issues with no compromise and no solution. I have said that we need the closeness and intimacy that sex brings, the connection that binds us. This doesn't come and I long for it. But it's not about the sex. Not anymore. I would say it's not about that, but it does play a major role. I long for the connection. To know that you want me. And that's the main issue. Not the stress, not the fighting, and not anything else. The main issue for me, is not feeling wanted.

You've tried lately, I've noticed. Whether its kissing me on the back of the neck while I do dishes, or putting your hand on my lap as I drive. I appreciate it all. I do. But, I need more. I need you to remember that you love me. That I am who you choose. I need you to recognize all that I do for you. I need to feel appreciated. To feel loved. To feel like I'm the only one for you, the same way you're the only one for me. I need to be your vodka cranberry, instead of the generic rum and coke.

I pray these words do not cut. Do not maim. Do not hurt. I'm only trying to put light to the situation. I just feel that my previous attempts fell on deaf ears. I need you babe. I need you to love. To be close. To be naked. To be clothed. To be everything I need you to be. I need everything you need me to be. We need to stop this vicious cycle. We need to go back to being us.

I love you Megan Shaina Smith.
With everything I've got.
Forever.
Always.
Infinite.
We are.