| Saturday, August 23rd 2014. "Last night." I tell myself. Sipping on white wine. Looking so glamorous, so composed in my dress, with long locks cascading down my back and around my shoulders. What a beautiful frame, what a warm, inviting smile. Come, sit. Speak to me. I know my eyes make it seem that only you exist for me. I know my gaze speaks to your soul. Sees you in a way no one has ever, and will ever. Ever. Never. I have never felt more divided within myself. And yet... I have grown. There are no tears, or tantrums. I just turn cold. I witness in awe and horror the person I am turning to be, the same kind that broke my heart not so very long ago. Deceit, it is like a virus. I feel infected, I want it out of me. My long lost lover... what has loving you done to me? The one with gentle eyes, innocence upon a beautiful face. Oh, how he charmed us all. Made us love him, fall blindly. Oh how I fell... I wish I could tell him somehow what his actions resulted in. I wish he knew how damaging the repercussions are of one thoughtless choice. But here I am singing the same old song. It really is time to go on a cleanse. My soul, my heart, my body... I am so immersed in my life here, there is no time to bring it back in. No privacy where I live. I feel completely overwhelmed with attention, and yet dying in isolation. Everyone sees what they want to see. Projections of me, their own stories. Same old song. Same song repeating itself over and over again. I see strangers around this dense city, once and serendipitously again a week later. As if the universe is saying to me: "I control the flux and the rhythm. Who you meet, who you have yet to meet. If I say, then so it is. Yield. Yield to me." Even as I write this I feel like I am suffocated in suppressed longing and sorrow. When will it cease? I believe everything unfolds organically... I know this to be true. There is not much we can do, or force for that matter. What I want is to love me. What I want is to be immersed in company that I genuinely enjoy without the feeling of emptiness that follows the morning after. I want to heal. Heal. Heal. How many times do I have to whisper it at night before sleep claims me? I only want to heal. |
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