when you learn to love

stomach full of butterflies, today is strange. to. day. the syntax of words and how things fit together, not quite perfectly. its like being on a roller coaster, this motion sickness, except i can’t see quite where the drops are. my hands, shaking, just like when i had taken those pills.

January 31

I’m starting to fall in love with myself again.

January 29

do you ever look at pictures of past lovers, feel sorry and wonder why you ever let them go? you wonder, could it have been something more. look how happy they seem and think, maybe you could have been there happy with them?

the worst part is when you’re alone. when you’re left sitting while the dust settles, the silence overwhelms you. and your mind can’t help but repeating each and every moment. you loved them, and wouldn’t you be happy. you can’t stand that you see their page every day. your heart still belongs with them each and every time. you wish you wish. and every song that you hear reminds you of them. and for the rest of your life, will. you’re so sorry that they’re gone. but it was what it is.

+

goddamn, this fucking hurts.

its like a constant buzzing in your ear, like a fly that is always there, and you wish for it to go away. this dull stabbing pain that runs from my stomach to my chest, constricting, breaking. it caves in on itself, as if a black hole replaced the cavity, but i still feel. how could i feel so much anger and hatred towards you, and yet love you at the same time? you said that you hated her, but if she had asked for you back, you would willingly run back to her. i’d rather have this pain manifest itself physically. constantly in the back of my mind, its like you’re clinging like a parasite, sucking me of life. i hate you! i hate you! because all you did was lie, to me and to yourself. i cannot distangle the lies from the truth, but maybe i should just let it go. what does it mean to let go? i don’t even know any more because nothing makes sense.

January 17

and even though my eyes are closed, the image floats behind my eyelids, haunting and beautiful. horrifying. her lips are red like over ripe cherries, a seductress, and she beckons you. who could resist a taste of sweet fruit when man could not even resist the taste of the fruit of death. hazed, you smile at her, and forget my name, intoxicated, oblivious. she is the devils own, and you, you play right into her hands. and here, four thousand miles away, i weep over a dream, a nightmare that won’t stop replaying in my head, of you and her. and this is why i must leave.