On Hopeless Romanticism – A Review
Pause.
Go easy today.
--
My brain does loop-the-loops and my heart does somersaults as I think about all the ways it's different. Cause now, even looking at you is dangerous, because in those moments I forget that you're bad for me and that feeling this way hurts us. But when your eyes meet mine, I don’t know the difference between pain and pleasure.
My brain has always been errant, restless. I think constantly, until I'm with you. Then it's silent and bright, like a candle.
And yes, despite all your joking, sometimes I do get quiet. And you think it means I'm upset, but really, it's just me trying not to put my foot so far in my mouth I choke.
Because if I die in this moment, it'll all be for nothing. And if I die in this moment, I'll never get a chance to wait this feeling out. To see what it could be if our plan pans out.
Or sometimes when I get quiet it might just be me writing listlessly all the things I'd say, if I knew they could not change your mind.
I get so scared sometimes. And I don't know if that's fine. And I want to be fine, I think. And deserve to be fine, I think. But instead I just feel this.
And this? This part isn’t something new. It's part of this cycle I guess I live in. Where I burn until I'm jaded. Bring in someone interested in my distance. We get close. And my warmth comes home, like a wounded vet. And then, for reasons out of our control, we move apart. And I'm left all warm, but with no one to share it with. And so, I get cold again, because it’s the only thing I know how to do alone. And it's always so painful.
I want to quit the cycle, but in order to I’m told that my heart needs to find itself, and I can’t ever seem to do that. But everyone keeps telling me that I have to, but what if I don’t ever feel like myself. What if I don’t ever know what being me means. What if the closest thing I’ve got to it is you?
That could never be fair. And I told you this. And I know that its not right, but I can’t fix it this quick. Should I? I know my heart well enough to know it isn’t a jealous one, but it does get needy. It needs to learn more about itself, but it only seems to when it with you. And when it isn’t, and it tries, it just gets confused. But that’s not my fault or yours.
I guess this is what heartache feels like. God, when did I become such a starving artist?
I want to know what it means to be truly friends. I do. But for whatever reason, despite all my longing. I can’t seem to lose you. Thief.
--
Thanks for reading. Have a good week.
