Poison

The alcohol running through our veins wasn’t enough fuel to keep us going.

Which sucks, because I miss you and even though I can still pour vodka down my throat—I’ll never be able to look into those deep blue, intoxicating eyes of yours as I do it.

But, toxicity can only last so long before you start to feel your insides decaying.

I just couldn’t help myself. You were drawing me in like a scented candle with your dangerous flame. A run from responsibilities, an escape from the world, a distraction from pain.

That’s exactly what you were—a distraction from pain, yet a source to it as well.

Making me feel both needed and unwanted, the cause to a tear jerking laugh and breathtaking sob in a single moment, both a heartwarming presence and a cold shoulder.

It’s the type of indulgence you can mistake for love, because you crave their good so desperately when you’ve experienced their bad. You mistake it for love, because you have found comfort in knowing someone is just as destructive as you are. You mistake it for love, because you have not yet learned what love really is.

I was mistaken, because even though you could make me the happiest—you could tear my heart to pieces in one second, with one word, with one look.

And you did, you always did.

I thought you were an escape from the dark world around me, until I started to realized my time with you was only adding onto the dimming view I used to perceive it.

When you’re in a toxic relationship, it’s difficult to see. It’s when others start to point it out for you that you try to alter your perspective. I looked myself in the mirror and managed to finally notice the wear and tear the relationship brought upon me.

I wanted to love you. I wanted to savor our relationship, but I also wanted to save myself from loving someone who could never properly love me in return. When I finally spoke my feelings out loud, the words felt like ash on my tongue. The fire we created was dying out and that’s all that was left of us—a pile of ashes and burns all over our skin.

I realized that a soul can’t be fixed by another that is in the same broken condition.

The poison only spreads.

That’s the thing though—people like us are used to pain. If anything, we embrace it. It’s the fuel that keeps us going. It’s the drive that takes us to our destinations. We mistake hurt for healing, breaking as building, suffocating as living and leaving for loving.

Maybe leaving you was the best influence I could be, because our impact when together was fueled with whiskey, cigarettes and loud music that wouldn’t allow us to think. We communicated through coping mechanisms, through escapes, through our pain.

I wish it wasn’t that way. I wish I could’ve helped you grow, because I knew you could. You can see so much potential in those you love, but it doesn’t mean you know how to help them reach it. I know you can do great things, but no longer can I hold myself back in attempt to make that happen.

Because, I’m still broken too. I need to heal too. Two people who know nothing of healing can not repair together. Two people with poison filling their veins and toxins steering their minds will only feed off of those addictions.

It sounds so deadly as I type the words, but in a way we were.

 

 

 

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Change of heart

I can’t even write about you. That’s when you know it’s bad. When the story I’ve been working on for years, suddenly seems like trash because it’s written about you.

You and your inconsiderate heart, me and my vulnerable soul.

That’s what this story seems to be about.

But, I can’t keep playing the victim. I chose to be broken by you. I searched for someone like you, to release all of the demons I had hiding so deeply within me.

So, I feel like this story may have changed its purpose in my life. No longer am I romanticizing you and our crazy, reckless, inconsistent love. It is a story of a girl and boy who broke each other and could never be the same again.

Freedom

I feel free. I saw you today and I almost smiled. I haven’t talked to you in a few days and I’m happy. I didn’t think I’d feel this way, but I do. I’m going to embrace it, because I deserve to be happy. Even if I did make you sad. I can only be in control of my own emotions, not yours. As much as I’d like to make you happy– that’s all I’ve been trying to do since we’ve been friends. I’ve put your emotions in front of mine for too long. It’s what I did for him too. The both of you were my number ones and I was always number two, just like I was for you.

I’ve cared so much and you’ve cared so little, wrapped up in your own life and drama of your love. You forgot I was there, in the sidelines cheering you on. Always there when you were down, when you didn’t want him, when you didn’t have him to hold. I was there. For the both of you. Open ears, open mind, open arms, but I left my heart closed. Because if it remained opened, I would’ve gotten burned, which is exactly what happened. I finally opened it. I finally opened my heart and my mouth to speak and you quickly shut it down. You can feel, but I can’t. You can love, but I can’t. You can fight, but I can’t. You can stir up drama and hate and confusion, but I can’t. I must remain silent around you and it hurts. It’s my own fault though. I shouldn’t fall into those bad habits. I shouldn’t let people walk all over me, talk to me without listening to me, judge me without hearing me out, fight with me without considering my side. When that’s all I do. All I do is wonder about you. How you’re doing. How he’s doing. How you’re both fucking doing and it hurts. Maybe I ended this the wrong way, but at least I ended it. I can say more than you can.

You and I

Life is really great right now. I can’t get over how happy I’ve been. I never thought I would be able to get to this point again. Just last year, I was hysterically crying in bed, drowning myself in covers and tears until I could hardly breath. Reaching out to people was never an option, because I felt so misunderstood, so helpless and hopeless. Now I have so many beautiful people who surround me that I can tell the most complicated parts of my life to and they somehow manage to get it.

Before my problems were so minuscule and I never even recognized that. I let them become more as they flourished inside my head, growing bigger and bigger as I fed them with negative thoughts and discouragement. Now I talk. I talk to every friend or person I believe to be caring enough. I tell them every concern I have and I listen to theirs. I sound like a broken record player, going on and on about the same thing but to different people. They all manage to understand though. None of them think I’m broken. They look at me like I’m a fucking human being, not a out dated piece of technology that’s no longer in good use.

So, despite my desire to be alone, I know there needs to be a balance. A balance of spending time with people and spending time alone. A balance of talking to someone and of listening to them. A balance of sacrificing yourself and of extracting the life from them. And I want to be around the people who know this– that there is balance in every relationship you have. That, despite the inevitability of losing each other in the end, there is so much we can learn and grow from with one another in the moments that we have.