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It just occurred to me that I only come up with these posts when I’m upset. Huh.
This post does not aim to be a short story. Or anything prose-related. It’s not poetry either. (Here’s lookin’ at you, Lorri. I’m not a poet. My words are still mere paint that have yet to paint a portrait.) It’s a bout of free writing coming from a discouraged, broken heart. This post will make no sense. And if you think it’s about you - it probably is.
Loneliness is an overpowering disease. You see people around you and they embrace and come together and you come to realize that you’re going to spend the rest of your life alone. It swallows you whole. It’s an unforgiving cancer in the soul that never leaves and always, always grows at every minute of unguarded solitude, trapped in the rowdiest of places. How does it feel that the only warm embrace you’ll ever really feel is the blistering heat of the Sun. Sometimes, even that warmth evades you for the Sun finds companionship with the clouds and its yellow light that is your only friend leaves you defenseless against the dark clouds that make things bleaker than they already are.
Fire is an image I keep coming back to. I am fire. For so long, I’ve been trying to be with water or trees or whatever - everything I can destroy and everything that can destroy me. I keep dimming my light down so I can be with things I don’t belong with.
I’ve tried to hang on for so long with people who don’t know me, don’t care about me, and just tolerate my presence. No more. No longer. I will not be pitied. I will not be settled for. I will not settle for mere tolerance of my flames. You never really were my friend, were you? You were just along for the ride because you’re on your way home and the bus just so happened to have a few speed bumps along the way.
I am ruthless fire. I am an unmerciful flame.
And you will burn me out no longer. I will be who I am - not who you made me, not who you want me to be. I’ve tried being your kind of girl. Happy, friendly, sunshine and rainbows. I’ve tried being the victim but that can only go on for so long. I’ve tried being everything I’m not, as an escape to maybe I’ll disappear along with my pretense. I’ve tried not caring but that’s not going to work - I’m too sympathetic for that, too compassionate. You must think I’m so pathetic, don’t you? Well I won’t bother you with my nonsense anymore. Have a smooth ride.
It’s time that I came into terms that I will never be one of the girls with long lasting friends. I give mine around six, nine months. It’s not that I think less of them, it’s that no one can really stay for that long. A person can only handle so much. If it was me, I’d run away from me too. I don’t blame them for leaving. Only a fool would play with fire for too long.
I am not likable. I literally have no redeemable quality. You more or less said the exact same thing. You can barely look at me and you’re always a good distance away because I’m just so damn repulsive aren’t I?
It’s fine. And in fact - it’s okay.
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Posted on February/26/2012
Tagged as: personal, journal, seedbook,
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