Why not? I find myself repeating these words anyway. The only difference is my motivation, the way I feel and how passionate I can be all in one time but that’s not the case with this. See, I’ve been feeling vulnerable for a while now. It seems every time I try to look away, I only find myself looking back at someone else. Perhaps I have a real problem or maybe I’m trying to pass the blame onto someone else. All I know is that I can’t stay like this anymore. I try my hardest to reclaim my peace of mind, my integrity and everything I once owned. Though, at the moment I make a move, I lose everything. Things seem to easily slip away from me. I find it unfair when I hold something close. Almost as if I hold it too close, shattering what I have with a grip too strong. As if the intensity of me having something is too much. I’ve not been sleeping all too well lately. I’ve been spending night after night awake, sitting… Waiting. Sometimes I search for something but always find myself back to where I last was. So I came to the conclusion that it didn’t matter if I was passing blame. I believed that it would fix me and fix me I hope it will. I don’t have many answers for myself, to the billions of questions I complicatedly over-think about. Sometimes I try to pretend that I’ve moved on but you and I both know I’ve not. I’m still all the same but I’m not the same. If I could have the answer, I’d leap to get it within a heartbeat. I’m running out of time and that scares me because now they only feel my stress where there was love. They can only see a man without ambition and his word. But it all comes down to this single question which I honestly am begging myself to believe is the right one. I’m ready to make the sacrifice. I’m ready for the fall because I have so many confessions to make that it’s not even worth what I think. A part of me wants comfort. I just want to feel the love of the one who’s holding my heart. I want to be able to cry and not have to fear everything crashing around me. When I look up at her, why does she say I’m beautiful? Why are my eyes so beautiful? The only thing infatuating about them is that their pleading for you to look away incase I do snap, and that’s a painful torture I put myself through.
"Why do you torture yourself?" "It’s because you’re a masochist."
I’m different now. I’ve got to be. This is all in the past. This isn’t about sex or some cheap thrill! I’m growing to hate the pain and I want out! I don’t know how much more insanity I can take of asking myself these questions, over and over again. I can feel my eyes watering up but when I wipe my eyes, nothing is there. I feel so jaded. There’s nothing there. It’s emotionally exhausting having to carry so much weight yet finding myself carrying everyone else because I find my peace of mind in others. Sometimes I wonder if there’s a greater pain than living. Even if there is, I’d only trade it for a way to numb the pain so I can get through this way. Yet there’s my problem… I numbed myself to the point in which I slowly stopped crying. So I substituted it for sex. Then I substituted sex for alcohol because love isn’t enough. It doesn’t feel acquainted as it should be. I know I’ve never been “in love” because I don’t even think “Love” exists anymore. I only believe in jealousy, frustration, anger, lust, comfort and loneliness. She’s slipping through my finger tips once again as so is she. Once again, I’ll lose her when I find my answer. Then never again I will have to feel that way. There’s nothing worse than having to comfort yourself within the contents of a swollen heart. I asked for something casual and ended up dependent. I want something sophisticated but I find myself belittled. I wish for something normal and I get abnormal on the scale from “Liar” to “Cheat”. I try to take my moral and not take another’s innocence but that makes me none the better as before. So I stand here alone. For a broken promise to return. I will let this eat away at me. I don’t find myself able to breathe properly anymore. My heart’s beaten and abused by it’s owner so it runs away to the nearest person. For comfort.
Why do I torture myself? It’s because living without the pain is unbearable now. I’d imagine…
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And no, I do not.