Howl At the Moon {edit}

My brain feels like a fizzling can of soda, sticky and sweet and sluggish.
My heart feels like an ageless soul that is still tired, tired, tired. . . .
My strength feels like the cycles of a graceless moon.
My co-dependent soul is tired, tired, tired. . . .

Focus.
My mind is desperately shifting, grappling for something worthwhile to focus on, something fixable.
I was never the broken one, though my pieces split and shifted and shuddered. Now I have no choice but to take the painful steps to restore them to their former flawed glory. I am pulling back. I am pulling inside myself. Where it is safe. Where I feel stabilized. Where I don’t have to wonder and worry and analyze until dawn cracks over the horizon and my eyes are tired, tired, tired. . . .

I can’t be those fragrant early mornings of blushing disarray, where summer simmered and bubbled. Tangerine and rose managed to bury the sorrow in my soul and worlds seemed to softly collide with silky lips. Now, the sun is harsh and the classrooms are stifling with the scores of human minds frying. There are neatly drawn lines that I am not allowed to cross, and finally, I’ve become lethargic, beaten down. I’ve done what you’ve been commanding me to do. I see now that fighting is only glorified suicide, nothing more.

And your apathy has not only drained me of my vitality, but also my reserve of hope for some kind of workable future between us. You’re passionless, you’re cold, you’re abrupt. I could never be any of those things. I can’t blame you for it, but I don’t have to be satisfied with it either. You must be crazy to expect me to be happy whirling around on this sick cycle carousel, bloodless fingers gripping too tightly to the cold, unresponsive bars. You don’t love me, I’m just the only thing left that isn’t barren and dead. Through your riddles and games, your sidesteps and half-answers, I have only become confused and misguided. You knew all along, and said nothing. Instead, you’ve made me jump through hoops, let me suffer. You’re wrong… you could have saved me. All it would’ve taken was straightforward answers and the decency to be consistent.

No worries, no fear, because a slender dose of karma is coming. I sweetly pleaded, loyally fought, patiently tucked time away, and so, it shall be returned to me someday. I have not been crushed underfoot, and the strength of my compassion and my willingness to love/believe has not been compromised. The rosy color of my thoughts and emotions has never been suppressed, either. I am still just the same as I always was.

I am not particularly angry nor hurt, but this is where the show ends.
This is where the disregard of boundaries, your disrespect, and the games end. You say you care about me, but your actions hardly reflect that. I can’t fix that hole in your chest, because, believe me, I’ve tried. Only you have the power to do that. You asked me once, while I was cuddled up to you, "Is this enough?" I told you yes. But now I see that somewhere along the way, it stopped being enough. If I’m going to love you, I’m going to invest my whole heart and soul into it, no exceptions. I’m always happy to be your friend, but you’ll no longer seduce me down a path bound to end in irreparable disaster.

This wasn’t written to hurt you, but to instead underline the fact that I’m serious this time. I no longer want to fight for something that you don’t particularly care about. I hope you can understand that.

"Just as the sun and moon co-exist, I never found myself to be alone. Desertion is accepted as a vacation from human bothers."
<3 amanda