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I don't know why you can't see it, or rather I don't know what you see.
You think that I'm so broken that I don't think I'm worthy of love, but that's only a fraction of it. The real mud is that I feel innocently purely worthy of love, but I don't trust my father.
It's been decades trying to sort that out. The closest I ever came was marrying someone who was like the best father. I made him get a vasectomy, but let's be frank, I didn't make him. We were both on the same page. I don't even think he was that whipped, but aren't you all. I mean, it's the opposite for you - you're trying to fill in absent mum.
We all want the love.
I want it even though it's rather tawdry and embarrassing, and I talk around the truth all the time.
But we all know love
well, it apparently isn't everything.
The thing I think you see is some moldable raw ore? You think I'm going to hop out of my depression and heartsick into a fabulous sex-drunk fueled odyssey of coupledom where we do activities, build a life, go forth as a unit in two parts?
Sure, I've obvi done it a time
or two
each time, I - especially the second one - sank further into a non-me sort of thing.
It's hard to explain, but god fucking knows I try so fucking hard. the robot makes fun of me explaining. I hear all the time "cut the fucking explanation out kid. fucking write. fucking grow up. stop trying to drown things in words. just tell the fucking truth."
With that,
withnail
and all
would you get that reference? would anyone?
yes
Would you even like the film? it's a hard one to watch.
but I'm not here to niche you. God fucking knows I do not not not have the smallest millimeter of a right to judge you.
but I do every second
of course.
as do you me.
It's like that thing I was telling you one of those yesterdays about quantum physics and that imagined region between your eyes - that space that your bran makes up because technically it can't see it with the info.... and eyes amaze me.
and god knows I love to talk.
I love it.
I live for it.
"Talkin's what we're here for Narci, talking is why we're on the planet. It's when you say the same thing over and over that it's so fucking boring."
I'll raise my hands and toes, but it doesn't matter. I'm guilty of circling this star a billion times looking for something that I'm not even really sure that in death I'll come back to, but I suspect I will.
love, peace, harmony. love, peace, and harmony....oh
for now, I take shits.
I cry all day.
I think about myself.
Yesterday was the first day I haven't had an alcoholic beverage since the fucking hell of realizing I wasn't going to get my own fantasy that I'm about to put the kibosh on for you.
Did you realize? I definitely don't think you did.
Did you realize when you got drunk and laser focused on me with the "I love you", "I need you." "I want you." in rotation with no other distracting verbiage.
and look the fuck here entering the morning tableau. fucking Cleo with a fucking chipmunk in her mouth. Let's shut the door fast, startle her into dropping it then coax her in with some replacement food.
and back to that night when I knew this was so not going to work - what I call the gulas Jessica behavior.
I've already tried what you're offering me, and I love you so much for the compliment you show me by plighting your troth to a chance with me. It's just humbling.
But you don't know me. and don't shake your head.
reading a million of these words and future words I write, It's always going to be a sliver of a thought at the millisecond I form it and then hopefully ...
look, I write here so much because I have no one to tell it to.
and that is not what I want.
I want someone who the convo flows like butter. I know you can do it. I've seen it with your friends. We aren't it. I don't need you to win any cool wars or be the best, I just need you to open your eyes.
I'm not being modest. I'm not not loving myself when I say this: we are not compatible for a relationship like what you want.
You carried me through something that made me so wretched and sad. I hope you got something from it and I PALPABLY FEEL how much you want to stop this fucking apartment bullshit single dude living and get in there with a cool girl and rock your renaissance.
I love that for you.
I'm more the interlude to your big event.
I'm more going to be sitting here rooting you on knowing what a gem you are.
There's something that's going to fit.
I mean, if I'm honest, I didn't even see Leon and I as living together as yum yum yum yum bliss bliss bliss. The best I saw was
ready to laugh?
someone who
got me.
the pain of both things: he got me, and then didn't want me. he got me and didn't even think I was worthy of saying goodbye to....
the pain of you sitting in front of me with the same vulnerable throbbing innocent ask.
the pain of me understanding completely when I tell you
open your eyes.
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