But thank god the TV is on..."
Because I'd rather that than being with you.
I try. I do. And yet, it grows ever harder to mean what I say, when I say that.
[I love you.]
It was true, once. What happened?
And you know what, I could care less, but that's not to say that I care enough as it is. Is it worse to maintain this facade than to reveal the truth? I still care enough not to do that. For, honestly, I think the latter in this case is the more damaging course of action. And the "facade" is built with a mixture of lies, truth and half-felt emotions. Its a matter of selfishness also, and a nostalgia for the past.
I love you, like a worn out shirt that I can't quite throw out.
If I removed everything with association, you'd be third on the pile. But I think I'd steal you back at the very last second.
Half guilty, half gleeful. And keeping secrets was never such a thrill. Yet, it gets lonely when there's no one to confess them to. Silly secrets, big secrets, they all have their place. But I was never one to keep secrets, and it eats at me like it does at this blog. What happened to openness? What happened to honesty?
Can you recall naivety? Really recall?
I wonder if I've lost anything less than my soul, but then, perhaps I've lost everything less as well.
There are more questions than answers in this universe, and that's where faith comes in. Can one have faith without hope? I'd beg to differ. But no hope is better than false hope. I'll still justify my position, for without some form of hope I wouldn't be here, and until I can exchange mine for better, I'll stick with fake. A few hours of delusion never hurt; ask those who leave their sorrows at the bottom of a bottle. Deaden the pain that tells you something's wrong. Courage? What courage? I'll take my courage from a shot glass.
I use your words in placement of the blades I once dragged across my skin. You wouldn't want it but I'm all too eager to take them, for nothing is worse.
I've become the one you try to help, what you tried to warn me against, but only behind your back. I'm a disappointment enough as it is, yes? I take in much more than you'd think, but it's yet another case of '"I'm sorry" isn't enough'. I'd ask for forgiveness but I think that's more than I deserve, although you'd tell me otherwise. It's different in context, is it not? That bitterness keeps you up at night, although the parallels aren't as clear to you as they are to me. Is this a part of His plan? Because I know as well as you that only one other wanted this. All things work for the good of those... I'm not one of those, but you are. So where is the goodness here? I'm not doubting, but questioning. It is not my place, but what can I say? It is not so much your answers I want, but your comfort.
All I want is my own happy ending, and I don't even need a prince and castle.
Okay, my ramblings are over, for now. Take a guess as to what is addressed to whom, if you so wish. I can bet you won't guess correctly, or at least, not a hundred percent.
P.S. The anger and the hurt only stems from all this confusion, that "just tumbled from a washing machine" feeling.