Have you ever held something in your life so important that you could never think about losing it? Something that feels so perfect that you could never imagine it breaking? Me too. It built me. It carried me when I couldn’t walk. I held it closer to my heart than any part of my own self, but now I can barely hold it in my hands without it crumbling to pieces. I think I might have held it too tightly. I didn’t mean to, but it is turning to dust. Or is that ashes? Did it burn? Am I the one that burned it. I tried. I tried really hard to take good care of it, but it has turned into something not even I recognize. Something I held so dear has turned into something so toxic for me. The soot from the fire is clouding my eyes and I can no longer see the destruction it is causing in my life. It is burning my lungs and is coating the walls in darkness. I think it is trying to destroy me. This thing that I loved so dearly is becoming my most painful memory, but I cannot let it go. My arms are chained to its foundation. Detaching yourself from emotions, they say, is bad for you, but if I am about to be demolished I do not want to feel anything for this thing that caused it. I do not want any love left for this thing that has torn my soul to pieces. I loved it. I didn’t leave it on a shelf. I carried it in my pocket and showed everyone how beautiful it was. I was so proud of it and now everyone will watch it ruin me. It is turning me inside out and allowing the world to see the most vulnerable parts of me before consuming them into the darkness of its grasp. There is no leaving and there is no going back. I am learning that love can only be toxic. There is no version of love, for me, that is not there to destroy. I give my whole self to love and when it succumbs to the darkness there is nothing left for me. Nothing left in this lifeless human shell. I willingly gave myself to it and I must suffer the consequences.
I drink in the world. Moment by moment I soak it all in through the wounds it has given me. I see the world like a passer by sees someone else’s life. I am always looking in. I see the pain. I see the happiness. I see the anger in every one else. I sit on the sidelines to watch how their life plays out. It could be me avoiding my own stage, but I would rather watch someone else’s success than my own. I would rather listen to their voices than have one of my own. A long time ago, mine was stolen. Stolen by the ones that caught my words as they crossed the threshold of my lips into the frozen air. They held them in their palms as they decided whether to warp them to their benefit or to crush them into nothing more iportant than the dust settling on your picture frame. You have given me a reason not to be a reason. I only gave you the most beautiful words that my mouth could form in hopes that they would heal the wounds on your skin. The wounds that only turned out to be a reflection of my own. You projected my pain onto your body because you knew I could not avoid the attempt to heal. I gave myself, all of myself, away. To the many that could not fill themselves. Now I am left with the draining effects. Their is no more love to distribute nor feelings to play host for an unwelcome heart. I gave you mine to be an additional link on the chains binding yours together. By the time I realized that I was only giving you the armor to shield yourself you had already begun to scavenge through my body’s foundation brick by brick. I gave myself to you and you only kept taking.
All I wanted was to be wanted. To feel like I was important to someone. And I still do, but I am comfortable with myself to not need someone’s attention to function. I was wallowing in my self-pity and I thought the only way to not be lonely was for people to pay attention to me, and trust me, I have manipulated myself to be able to get exactly that, but I am finally pulling myself out of that dark hole of despair. The best part is that as soon as I can finally do that for myself, someone decides to prohibit my progression. I wanted you to need me and you didn’t, but as soon as I can move on, you say you need me. If your goal wasn’t to drag me right back into that wretched confinement you are doing a horrendous job of showing it. It feels like every time I am ready to walk away you pull me back and I am forced to start from the beginning all over again. I am exhausted with your endless games and I would just like to take a rest. Stop using me then throwing me away. I know after this you are going to push me back to the side like you always have and I am going to wait there patiently until I am just ready to fix myself. Which will be conveniently right before you “need” me again. I am so over being used. Like I said before, I will not stress my life to be a crutch for yours.