Deadlocked

I sit here, my mind and my heart in turmoil... I feel as though I walk on thin ice... I don't know if I'm supposed to be here...

I don't like not knowing.  I like being sure of my position. I like feeling safe. This trembling on the edge of the unknown is new. This vulnerability and opening myself up to potential... What?

Potential hurt, potential... That feeling where I'm stripped down and shown that I'm nothing... That potential.  I'm here though... Because if I wasn't then that would be the beginning of the end... I truly believe that.

If I hadn't come here tonight, facing my fear of rejection, of humiliation (that's the word I was looking for), if I hadn't come here then I would have regretted it. It would have been a mistake.  And it would have had repercussions that would ripple through the following days, weeks and months...

So I'm here... Maybe where I am not supposed to be... But I'm here anyway. I'm here because it's where I'm meant to be.  Because even though I feel like my insides are shaking and I have no idea what is up from down and I've worked my way into a panic where nothing makes much sense... I'm here. Because even if I'm not wanted... I'm here. And there can be no doubt as to what I want.

And maybe that's what matters tonight... To prove that I know what I want, and where I want to be.

Fears and Revelations (draft)

This is not meant to be easy.

I've taken the soft route where I drift peacefully along the path of no resistance, I allow myself to indulge in the lighter side and avoid the hard topics.

I have turned my back on the big issues and skimmed around them. I've been childish, and that has in itself been true to half of my nature.

Here I face the hard places. Here I stand and stop and face my fears. Here I state my innermost thoughts that I've run from and tried to ignore.  Here I face my internal and external demons and fears. Here I will find the poison that's hurting me and attempt an exorcism.

It is likely to be ugly, brutal and dark. It is, after all the other side of me. Of my world, of my life and my mind. It's the things that are hurting me.
...

- My fear of prying.

This is one that I've been trying to fathom, explain, and understand for ages.

It's first because it's on my mind all the time.

I don't ask questions, I don't pry, I don't try to break into places that are locked. I don't open things that aren't mine. I don't touch what's not mine. This goes for everything. From the physical world of rooms, cupboards, drawers, and belongings, to the intangible world of minds, thoughts, history and memory.

If I'm not invited to look inside then I will firmly remain outside. I can't move past the threshold without being asked to. It's a block. Occasionally, if it's sprung on me without warning I panic; filled with fear, and the feeling that the time isn't right.

This is harder to explain, and I'm still trying to understand it, so I'll leave it for now, and try not to force it. With time it'll come.

___

- inferiority and embarrassment

This is a tough one. It's so deeply ingrained that I don't know if I'll ever be able to get over it.

It manifests in many ways. Some of them are:

A belief that I'm in many ways inferior to others; the reasons that caused that feeling are also many. 

Vanilla Sky

Reality is a subjective game that plays with my senses and manipulates me; but perhaps I perceive more than I know.

I dissolved into torrents of tears this morning when I woke up, simply because I felt that I was slowly being pushed away. If this was eight months ago he would have been there. He would have insisted on spending every second that we were on ground together. He wouldn't have let me down. He wouldn't have let me go.

He wouldn't have ignored me.

Now I feel neglected. I feel unwanted. I feel like I'm being slowly pushed away. Is it because I showed him my insecurities? I showed him my fears? I showed him parts of me that left me vulnerable, and as a result I'm more susceptible to being hurt.  He doesn't know or realise this. And I can't tell him because he won't understand.

It feels like I'm not wanted.  It feels like I'm in his way. It feels like I'm losing him.

It really feels like he doesn't want me anymore.

The Small Fragile

18.12.16

In silence I have fallen; the old insular darkness has risen once again to claim what's always belonged to it. I am lost.

Surrendering to the complete unfamiliarity of everything. What I have been anticipating, looking forward to, and being so excited about has evaporated. I'm left feeling cold, alone and in unfamiliar territory.

Is it me? Have I switched over into something that can feel nothing, and thinks on levels too deep to speak about?

Or is it him? Or is it us?

I'm starting to see beyond the small bubble that I've been occupying, and I don't fit. I'm simply wrong.

I have hours upon hours alone. Sundered by such a small space, yet at this moment it feels like we're strangers. I know nothing, and it's my fault; I never ask... Too afraid of the answers that I know will haunt me, and will lead to me pulling away simply because I would feel unable to compare. Smaller than he realizes. Less than the others.

My thoughts take me to places that trap me, and I sink into them unwillingly, yet unable to escape.

The depth is missing. A connection that goes deeper than words, deeper than flesh. A connection that goes into one's soul. That's what's been missing. I am not sure if it was there and then left, or if it was never there, or if all things so far led to this point, and now it's time for something more.

Have I bared my soul? Have I shed my layers and allowed myself to be scrutinized? Have I been able to cast light on my scars as well as my strengths? Have I shown all there is to be seen?

Have I given all I have? Is there more to give?

I'm unsure of what's coming... But I know I'll look it in the eye when it does.

At this moment I'm just a girl, nothing more, nothing less. Empty, void of emotion, void of thought but the ones that make it past the walls and into words.

Words... Always words... Thoughts like smoke I can't make sense of, emotions that dissolve like wine through blood and blood through wine.

Ask me where my mind is and I'll tell you it's spinning words and thoughts at a million beats per minute; ask me where my heart is and I'll show you the space it occupies, where it races and falters to unsteady stops and pauses at the shadows that cross your forehead, and the echoes of words in your eyes...

Your eyes... The depths of the ocean hide less than what I see haunting your eyes, and mine shine with unshed tears, but I don't have the courage to ask.  I feel like I'm halfway out of the door, and what right do I have to ask?

You used to miss me. Your eyes lingered over me with a hunger that was like electric shocks to my system.  Your hands sought me and held me, and made me feel wanted beyond a doubt.

You used to make me feel like I was something...

I know that I haven't done anything to make you feel less wanted... I remember that first night... My shyness, my awkwardness, my fear, and I know you saw none of it.

That first night... Some parts are clearer than others... But what I know for sure is that desire cools, even though I miss it... But one alone can't change anything. And if one alone can see the difference, and doesn't have the courage to speak up, if that one alone fears the backlash, and the scrutiny, and the questioning, and the feeling of being interrogated which causes panic... Then I'll keep it inside.

That first night... And now here I am... Feeling as though I'm on the brink of a fall, and I don't know what could save me.

I'm shutting down, silence claiming me, and maybe I should do something, maybe I should hold back, or maybe I should give more... Maybe I've suffocated him, and maybe space isn't wanted. Maybe I've gone too far... Maybe love is too much...

Maybe love is too much...

Should I change? Should I give less? Should I hold my hands close to my sides in fists and resist the urge to reach out and touch everywhere I can reach? Should I resist the desire to open my arms as wide as I can and pull him as close as I possibly can? Should I resist the need to tilt my chin up and offer kisses that I can never give enough of, nor receive enough of? Should I resist the need to drop kisses wherever I can reach? Should I simply hold everything in, and keep my heart veiled, and my emotions coiled within me? Should I stop being me, and turn cold? Should I reign in my passion and heat of desire?

Is that what would be required? Is that what I should start doing?

The only problem is that I can't.

I'm a barely contained fireball, aching to ignite. I'm unbridled passion that's always needed an outlet. I'm a tangle of impossible emotions, and all I want is to give all I can.

But... My mind is quiet, and all I can do is write. My lips don't move, and my voice is quiet, and I say nothing, but inside me I'm a roiling, tumbling sea of emotion that I can't contain or control. It spills out in words... Always words, always words that no one sees or hears. Words that echo inside me, crushing me, crashing through me like wrecking balls, distorting my view, blurring my vision.

All I am is words... And words aren't enough.

Collapse Upon the Shores of Love

Silence as always surrounds me.

My thoughts are simple and familiar, traveling paths that they always turn to when I'm alone. The bittersweet taste of love that is as effortless and as natural as breathing.

Love that is deep, pure, endless, boundless and consuming; love that is as deep as the core of a soul, and as powerful as a hurricane that charges through landscapes and leaves nothing unchanged.

Such is the love that I am subject to, powerless against it, and never wanting it to be otherwise. It's rendered me small, soft, pliable and weightless; able only to surrender to it, and let it flow through me slowly.

My arms open wide and hope that he'll hold me as tightly as he can, simply because my body feels as though it can't contain what's inside it and I need his arms, and his strength, and his presence to hold me together.

Love is inadequate as a word to describe what I feel, and superlatives do not help either. Love is an ocean of shores and deeps, of reefs and shoals, of calm bays and tumultuous expanses, it can be both welcoming and hostile; it's beautiful, soothing, terrifying at times, and formidable at others; it's contrast and it's life. It's an entire world in itself that I find myself living in.

Perhaps I have created a world out of a feeling and lost myself in it, and perhaps I echo what he feels and hasn't expressed. Perhaps I create worlds within words, and words where they shouldn't exist.

Perhaps I'm only a poet who still struggles with demons and with her own confusing interior.

What I'm certain of is that I'm in love, that I've given in to it, surrendered to it, let it take hold of me and consume me. What I know is that in this brilliant world of wonder I have pledged heart and soul.

I've waded into the shallows, plunged into the depths, was tossed among the breakers that broke parts of me. The storms wrought their havoc and returned me eventually to the calm place I reside in now. I shall slowly emerge, curl up upon the shore and let peace and silence fill me.

Here I collapse upon the shore and feel the warmth fill me. I don't only feel love, but live it constantly.

Mirrors and Potential Things

Perhaps you feel the same as I feel. Perhaps I've left you feeling cold and alone. Perhaps I've failed in pulling you into me and I've failed to give you what I've tried to give. Perhaps I've left you feeling unfulfilled and needing something you can't name, but want with a hunger that takes you and holds you and doesn't let go.

Have I failed to love you the way you need to be loved? Have I not given you what you need to be given? Is my way ineffective? Like pouring water into sand?

Am I too intense? Too needy? Too demanding?

If only I knew what you need from me, I'd give it. If you need less of my heart and more of my mind.
If you need more actions and less words.
If you need more space and less physical contact.
If you need less of my soul and more of the shallow.

I'm opening up. I can see it. I just wonder if he sees it, or if it looks like bits of glass scattered across asphalt. The echo of trauma, but worthless now it's broken. Shape undetermined. Taken at face value. Not thought about and barely looked at.

Knots and the Heaviness

Time has paused around me, yet speeds by outside my window.

I close my eyes, sleep avoids me, and my mind spins like never before.

I feel the need to write, it's been with me for days now. An itch inside me that I can't scratch. A knot coiled tightly between my ribs that I can't untangle.

There are truths that I can't unravel. Words don't come to me, they are refusing to help me understand what it is I'm feeling, I can't go through it, I can't access my mind, I don't know what is troubling me.

I'm digging into myself, attempting to understand.

On the surface it's love.

I have said it before... I'm afraid of loving him too much. There are so many theories around that one sentence. And I know the answers to none of them, because the truth is inside him, and he tells me nothing. He only says that he loves me more.

It's ironic :)

Because at times I don't feel loved.

It's horrible to admit it, because I'm sure he does love me. What's horrible is that it's not enough sometimes to know it, one also needs to feel it. What's bad is that I need things that I can't ask for.

The second layer is distance.

It's not easy. When he is away and I'm here, I know he has to be. When I'm away and he's here I feel guilty. I feel like I want to stay, I don't want anything to keep me away from him. That's the hard part. Reconciling work with what my heart tells me it wants.

I think what hurt me was when we could have been together, when it was actually possible and he chose not to be. When I made it as clear as possible that he wouldn't have to do anything except wait for me at home and I'd make my way there.

I'd already felt like his interest was fading, and maybe he doesn't see it. Maybe it's normal progression for him, but for me it's the opposite. For me, time increases my love, my desire, and my need to be able to simply be with him. Time serves only to make me want to evolve in all ways. (the evolution of love)

The third layer is Uncertainty. (confusion is 4)

Uncertainty kicks in when I no longer know things, or feel that I'm lost.

At first I knew I had a place with him. He told me it felt like home when I was with him. He told me that he wanted me there.  He told me that we operate under the same situation as if we were living together, meaning that if he's here, then that's where I should be also.

That was a long time ago.

I don't know if it's changed. I don't know if he still feels that way, or if he wants his own space back. I don't know anything.

I'm slow. I know that he fell for me while I was still trying to understand what I was feeling. While I still had walls upon walls upon walls inside me that I didn't know how to break down. I felt pressure to find a way to let myself feel to the extent that I knew was possible, and yet it couldn't be rushed.

I know that at the beginning he wanted me with him.

Right now, I'm trying to be objective. But I'm still unsure. Things change, emotions change, desires change. Lust cools, love fades, routine takes over. It's not impossible to imagine that after this much time he has changed.

I fell in love too slowly, I fell in love too hard. I fell in love eventually.

Time doesn't move me backwards. Time doesn't make me want less. Time doesn't make me close my heart, it opens up more and more.

I'm not sure about anything, except that I love him, and want to be with him.

I'm not sure how he perceives me anymore.

The fourth layer is confusion.

I don't know how to act or react anymore.

It was so simple before. Simple, uncomplicated, beautiful.

I know I twist things, I spoil things by overthinking and overreacting. I see things in my mind and take them as truth because I have no proof that they are not true. I jump to my own conclusions and in some ways I'm completely and utterly mad; crazy in a bad way.

I pick up on the little things and interpret them according to my mind.  In the past I've been right, but I've also been wrong.

The problem is that I don't react this way unless something happens. When I feel safe I don't start imagining the end. When I feel wanted, I don't start imagining I'm a burden.  When I feel loved, I don't doubt its truth, or its beauty.

Something needs to happen in order to throw me into confusion.

My senses pick up on the small things that my mind doesn't always recognize.

What worries me is that if I pick up on something, and it's resolved afterwards, the damage is done.

(this is another huge issue)

I will still continue to feel that way. I'll still be confused, feeling like I'm once again, dangling over a cliff, not knowing when I'll be released. Feeling like I'm disposable. Temporary.

I know that things can't always be sunshine, rainbows and love... But I don't see why they can't be. Is it so difficult to show affection? Is it so difficult to take a couple of seconds just to touch, to whisper something, or kiss?

I do it all the time... And maybe that's my mistake. Maybe I give enough love for both of us.

I tell him that I love him and miss him so many times a day, but it's because I feel it so strongly that I can't keep it in. I say it when it consumes me.

Last night I didn't though.  For the first time ever, I went to sleep without saying it. I wondered if he'd notice after a while. Because I'm going to try not to say anything.  Maybe he'd prefer it. Maybe he'll say it instead.

He used to count the hours, he used to tell me how much he wanted to simply lie next to me and sleep. He used to make me feel missed, and wanted.

These things can't be asked for. If they are felt then they are expressed. If they are expressed then they fill me with peace and hope.

They can't be asked for. I said them and received no answer or response. I can't ask him to miss me enough to vocalize it. I can't ask him to want to lie next to me and speak in hushed whispers.

My heart hurts a little.

I'm afraid of becoming someone he doesn't want. And in some ways, I wish he'd tell me that he doesn't want me, because then I'd know. I'd have definitive proof, and I won't have to guess or be confused. It's somehow easier to be unwanted than to be half-wanted.

I'm afraid that by loving him too much he will start to love me less. I'm afraid that I'll lose him because being over-emotional and over-attached are sure ways of making him want space.

Sometimes I think I should let myself be myself, and if he doesn't like it then he can decide to let me go and find someone more mature. Sometimes I think I should be more mature, keep my feelings closely guarded, keep my words inside me. Simply smile and say nothing about anything. In effect, I'd be a quieter, less passionate version of myself. Perhaps that would be better.

But then again, my nature will always find a way out. It will come bursting through my lips and fall from my eyes and melt me down into an unsightly puddle of raw emotion.

That was the side-effect of letting my walls down, of allowing myself to feel love as fully as I do. The dark side is the unchecked emotions that I can't control.  You can't have one without the other. With intensity in love comes intensity bordering on madness in all other things as well.

I wish I could stop myself, be more like I was. But I can't. This is me.

Knotted emotions, twisted thoughts, raw feelings, intense love.

The Deplorable Insecure

I'm drowning alone.

In stubborn pride I want to rant and storm and scream the sky down.  I want to rain hell and fire and burn everything in sight. In my stubbornness I want to be difficult. I want to toss my head, sparks in my eyes and show that I'm no one's fool; to show my strength.

I'd double down and be the one creating the distance. I'd be the one who stops giving all my time. I'd be the one who simply stops making an effort. I'd let go.

I'd find things to do alone. He'll be here for three days.  He has avoided me before, not that long ago.  This is new.

I feel small and quite silly.  I keep putting myself out there and getting rejected in return. I think he just didn't want me there.

I'm tired. All I want is love. A bed to sleep in. Arms to cuddle in to. Whispered "I love you's" and "good night's".

My desires are so simple. To feel loved.  That's all.

Seems like it's too much to ask.

Love is too much to ask for.

The Shift, The Break, The Fall

I'm awake.  Grit in my eyes and gravel in my throat. Emptiness in my heart and black clouds shroud my mind. I am here, but not here.

I don't know how long I can keep this up for.  Making excuses, trying to be understanding, trying to  fathom the reasons, coming up with nothing but more loneliness.

I'm so tired.  I just want to feel wanted again, and no one can ask to be loved.

It could be me, though I don't see how.  I'm the same as I have been, except that now I feel lost, alone, vulnerable.  Bitterly self-conscious. I'm being pulled in so many directions that I feel myself begin to fray. My mind unraveling. Devolving into fear; a dark place.

This in itself changes me.  I seek reassurance. I seek validation. I seek knowledge and proof.  I ask questions, but receive no answers. I lay my soul bare and it's either not noticed, or is of no consequence.

I haven't given up yet. But I'm close.

Giving up would be the break. If I stop trying, then it'll be done. I feel like I'm keeping it all together by sheer willpower, strength of determination, and a bit of luck.

If I give up then I think it would be all emptiness and a total breakdown of communication. Even now we don't talk. Not in a deep, soul-fulfilling way. We talk about the mundane things. I have opened up a few times, but there's little reaction. I feel like my feelings are a burden.

I see myself as a small, awkward thing, devoid of grace and beauty.  Sometimes I think he needs more. Sometimes I think I need more.

I miss him.  I miss the man I knew. The man who loved me.

It's hard knowing that he is here... And I was asked not to be there.

We all need space sometimes though.  We need to get on and unpack, clean, sleep, change things around... We need to do our own things sometimes, and I understand that. Doesn't make it any easier though.  Even I sometimes feel that I need to go back to my flat with my own things, and do what I need to do... That said... He'd be home, and it shouldn't be hard to do those things with me there. (but it's his call at the end of the day. And I have no choice but to respect it, swallow it, deal with it, even if I don't understand it)

I'll try to think less and feel less. I'll try to regain some kind of control over my emotions. I'll try to loosen my grip.  I'll try to be better, and with it should come a new-found self-respect.

He is lucky to have me.  It's true that no one has ever said those words to me but him, but I've always known that I'm different in so many ways.

I just thought that no one had seen my potential.  I still don't feel understood. I feel like I'm not seen sometimes.

I feel lost.  That's the word I keep coming back to. Lost. Alone. Scared.

Scared of myself, of my feelings, of my mind and what is in it, my flawed thinking process.
I'm scared of him sometimes. Trying to keep my head above water. Trying to match his way of thinking. Trying to adapt to him. I'm not very good at it.
I'm scared of pushing him away if I stop feeling.
I'm scared of pushing him away if I don't.

I shouldn't be afraid though.  I should get along and do what I need to do. I can't let my world revolve around him no matter how much I want it to, or how it just happened.

I'll try to be stronger. I'll try not to be this weak version of myself. I'll be tougher, stand up straight, and find the old fire that I once held.

I won't be the soft, pliable, needy, dewy-eyed vulnerable child I've become. I'll go back to being strong, if I can. 

Black Fear

I wrote of wanting more.  Of wanting the hidden things, of wanting him to open up and share everything with me.

But, the second I feel it coming I run.  I don't understand my fear.

I said something a long time ago. He remembers it. I said something along the lines of "it'll be all I think about, don't tell me anything."

I need to grow up.

I need to explain what I meant, but I'm also scared of what that could do.

The more I think the more confused I get, and the more I hate myself. My insane complexity. I hate that I'm not like other people. I hate that I'm a writer. I hate that I'm a poet. I hate that the things I feel, the depth I perceive in myself is nothing. It's a shallow, stagnant pool of turbid water, and he is the clear ocean.

I feel small.

I'm afraid of myself.

I want to be simple. I want to bypass the knots and the mess in my mind. I want to be normal. I want to be a person who can see the simple things, who can be good and strong and selfless, who isn't afraid of everything...

I want to be the woman he deserves.

I'm so confused.

____

Too sensitive is a flaw.

Very demanding... Another flaw.

Needy... A third flaw.

The need to be his focus... Just like he is mine. Not everyone is like me.

I would drop everything and run to him if I thought he needed me.

I have so much love to give.  And in return I need as much.

I don't ask for anything. Even if I want something.

The Rock and the Hard Place

Home.

That's when I have time to think... And the things I think about are heavy.

The future.

To cut straight to the chase, my religion will murder my heart. Is there a point in staying with a man I most probably can't be with? Am I wasting both our time? Can I possibly bear to leave?

I know I'm strong, but it would break me. It would absolutely destroy me if we broke up.

I love him. It's that simple.

I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. I just want him to be mine, always, and to be able to be proud of it, head high up and challenging the world to say something.

I'd fight.

I love him.  But... He might choose to leave me when he eventually realizes that it's not going to be easy... It'll be a fight.

Even now, knowing how much I love him, and how I miss him, and the way I feel when we're not together... I also know that we're very different. The way I became who I am... My narrow life; and all the things I haven't done, all the things I wish I'd had the chance to do.  I became who I am through extreme pressure, and even now, parts of me are still unformed and missing.
I love him. But realistically... Can we fulfill each other?

Is it possible for the two of us to merge our combined worlds into something sustainable, and nourishing?

What I've always needed is simply to feel safe. That's all.

"I am afraid of what is inside you. I don't know why I'm afraid.
My heart has always been fragile. There are things I cannot handle.
I tried to toughen up with pride and ego, but both are temporary and vain.
In reality I'm just a woman, frail and weak, and pain, is my constant companion....
In reality I'm only a woman... And I'm afraid you'll destroy me...

I'm afraid I won't have enough time to heal. I'm afraid that I'll end up needing you more than I do already... I'm afraid that you won't be able to love me more than you already do. I'm afraid that you'll realize I'm not enough... That I don't match up.

I'm afraid you'll find someone else while I am here, wanting to be with you. Feeling like you're happy that I'm not. "

Hush

Hold your tongue, lock up your words in silent vaults and tombs.
Build up the walls, construct the dams, seal the cracks with blood and longing.
Confusion reigns, it plagues and creates such loneliness within me.

Loneliness, while talking to the one I love is difficult and painful.
Unable to explain what it is that I need, I say nothing instead.

In saying nothing I fear he'll think I don't miss him, when it's the opposite that is true.
When missing him is a suffering I endure with the promise of kisses and other delights.
When loving him is my heart exploding within me and being unable to show how it hurts.
When all I need is him.
So I say nothing, I hold back my words and my fears, my feelings and my thoughts, my pain and my frustration. I hold back the emotions and the strength of my desire... I hold it all in, say nothing, because there's nothing to say.
He knows that I love him. He knows that there's nowhere I would rather be than in his arms. He knows that my heart is his for as long as he wants it.
There's nothing else to say.

I'm afraid of being too much.

Especially when I'm here. I'm needy, demanding, I want constant company. I'm jealous, I'm irritable, I feel like a bird with clipped wings. I want attention, I want to know that I'm not forgotten. I need reassurance that I'm still remembered.

I'm afraid.

I don't want to be a burden, I can fix myself in time. I also want to know that if I fall apart he won't leave me. I need him to be able to hold me together and patch me up. I need him to see my broken bones, my bruises and scars and to not hate me for them... To love me in spite of them... To love me because of them. To love me through all the pain that I hold inside me, and through all the things I've suffered through. I need him to make me feel safe... To know that he will stay with me... I need him to have my back... I need him to not leave me vulnerable, in the cold, alone...

What I need is too much to ask for.

My heart is huge and I give everything that I desire to receive. It's nothing I don't already offer.

... This was my prison. It still feels like it is. I have no motivation to leave the gates.

This was my prison.

All I ask for is time, for words, for physical closeness, for emotional support... Already the list is too long, and what right do I have to ask for any of it?

You have too much on your mind as  it is. I can't add to it. I'm supposed to help you with it. I'm supposed to be your support, your strength... I am supposed to be the sharer of your burden, not a burden myself.

I try to stay small, to be easy... My issues come through and make that difficult.

I need more. He has no more to give.

That's how it feels.

The Deep Demanding

Discontent is an empty feeling, dancing through my heart hand in hand with longing and unfulfillment.

Too much space has been carved out within me, and it takes so much to fill the bare corners, the empty halls, and the stark quarters.

More is needed, but no more can be given.  Everyone has a limit, it seems. They give until they can give no more. They sometimes give more in the beginning when all is new and exciting; faltering in the middle when they perhaps feel that it's more ordinary, and become somewhat complacent. Desire to share cools, distance grows, loneliness returns.

I am different.

I do not find comfort or shelter in time. I do not take my position for granted. I wake up each day with the small fear inside me that today, perhaps, is the day when he'll find that excitement again.  I fear it won't be with me.

I try to need less.

I try my hardest to hold in my words, my feelings, and to smile more often than I feel I'm capable of.

I try to be gentle, standing nearby in case I'm wanted, always making it as clear as possible that I'm here. I'm right here, and I love you more than you can imagine is possible.

What I don't say is that I'm cold, lonely, starving for attention. Desperately needing the things hidden and kept inside.  Made to feel that I'm not temporary, made to feel that I'm half of our whole.

I want to reach out, pull you close and feel you. I want to know who you are under the things you hide behind. I want to see all of you, to know all of you. I want to share your burden and know the things I should avoid.

This is me sharing myself. This is my deep center. I have very little else to offer but my heart; my whole heart. My depth is simply the way I feel, the way I think, and the way I love. My secrets are of the same kind. I haven't done anything worth declaring as a secret; actions are seldom remembered, and often I find myself walking into something that I didn't see coming, walking out scarred and bruised and afraid. I live in my head.

Perhaps you feel the same as I feel. Perhaps I've left you feeling cold and alone. Perhaps I've failed in pulling you into me and I've failed to give you what I've tried to give. Perhaps I've left you feeling unfulfilled and needing something you can't name, but want with a hunger that takes you and holds you and doesn't let go.

Have I failed to love you the way you need to be loved? Have I not given you what you need to be given? Is my way ineffective? Like pouring water into sand?

Am I too intense? Too needy? Too demanding?

If only I knew what you need from me, I'd give it. If you need less of my heart and more of my mind.
If you need more actions and less words.
If you need more space and less physical contact.

I've carved out too much space and now I'm empty.

To Love a Writer

In silence my mind weaves the picture of all that I feel inside, my lips fail me and my voice falters. Forgive me.

I always thought that once I found someone who could love me, for my flaws and the darkness I always believed lived inside me, then I could be happy, I could open up my soul and show all I am; and that I would be understood.  I was mistaken.

I still hit the same road block that I have always had; my heart is more than an organ that pumps blood through my body, it is my core, the center of who I am. It feels as though it comprises every organ between my throat and my pelvis, and radiates throughout what’s left of me. Once I learn to let down my guard and to slowly let the walls crumble, I love without reserve, without holding anything back. I give my all, everything I am. I love with the raw power of thundering waterfalls and rough seas. I love with the gentle breeze that caresses all it touches with ease; with the softness and calm of the warmest sunlight.

I am not understood, and the more I try to explain myself the harder it becomes to make sense. I am a poet, and yet poetry now seems like a small, frail, withered leaf that holds no value. My soul of which I was always so proud now seems like something overused and unnecessary. My mind, which I always thought was my most important feature now seems like a trap that I can’t escape.

There is so much locked inside me that I am desperate to share, but I fear that the small things that make it past my lips only succeed in showing me in unfavorable light. They show a childish outlook, when I am so much more than the small, frivolous thing that somehow manages to show while my depths remain hidden in dark silence.

Tears fell in the night while I lay in silence next to the man I love, while he slept I struggled to hold myself together, feeling small, feeling as though I was unworthy, feeling as though I had no place or space with him.

I felt as though my world was ending, crashing down around me, and I needed him. I missed him. I missed his warmth and the way he used to hold me so tightly, and fear seized me.  I curled up on myself and tried not to be afraid, and to tell myself that he loves me. But I know that love fades, and I am not easy to love.  I felt the cold slowly spreading through me, starting from the point between my lungs through my ribs and outwards. I felt it creep through my veins and make me shiver even though my body was warm. I bit my lip and the pain reminded me of my sins, and at that moment my love for him was equaled by my hatred of myself. A deep feeling of disgust that I cannot cleanse; that I cannot forget.

He has fallen for a writer; a woman who lives in her mind, and who thinks words and images and likenesses. He has fallen for a poet who feels too deeply, who is childlike and gullible. He has fallen for a creator who is still too immature to create anything of worth.

He’s fallen for a woman who can love with the depth of oceans, with the engulfing heat of fire, and the piercing cold of ice; a woman who needs and wants and desires affection above all else, and to know that she is wanted, needed and desired.

He has fallen for a woman who is afraid of finding herself unnecessary, or a burden. Afraid of becoming boring or taken for granted. Afraid of becoming too much. Afraid of him needing space alone without her, when space alone without him is cold and lonely.

She used to say that home was where he was, but now... she wonders if it is fair to think of it, or if perhaps it is too much to ask. She is only a woman. But a woman whose soul contains the universe, who plays with worlds and creates landscapes filled with untold wonders. A woman whose eyes see deeper than the physical world, and whose soul feels the slight tremors of energy surrounding her. She is a woman who has opened her arms and her heart to him, who has grown to love him with unwavering passion and who has dedicated herself to wanting only to make him happy.

She is a woman who fears asking for too much. A woman who still doubts her place in his life. A woman who is fragile, breakable, easy to bruise. A woman who is also strong, resilient, and prepared for the worst; prepared for the day when he decides that she is no longer what he wants or needs or desires; prepared for the day when he tells her gently that she is no longer necessary.

This is what it is to love a writer; we are not strictly sane, we do not fit in with normal people, we think too much and speak too little, unless it is nonsense in my case.  We are creative, and yet we live in our heads. We are sensitive, so we build walls and defences. We are bleeding hearts and weeping eyes at the slightest provocation, and yet we make ourselves strong so we can withstand the cruelty of others. We feel too much so we push our feelings down and numb ourselves until we forget who we are; knowing only the shadow of who we were once upon a time when we were whole and unafraid of ourselves.

This writer has slowly allowed her feelings to come back, she’s allowing herself to fill up and overflow. She’s allowing the dams that she placed to subdue her feelings to break and get washed away in the torrents that have taken over. She has allowed herself to feel with the full power of everything that she is. It is frightening, and makes her vulnerable, but she wouldn’t have it any other way, for to feel everything with such intensity is to love unconditionally. And to love is what she wants to give him without reserve.

To love a writer is not easy. To let a writer love you is a promise. We are fickle, we are emotional, we are illogical most of the time, but when we say we love;  we mean it. When we say that we are invested and committed we mean it. When we say that you are all we want ... we are unshakable until we are told otherwise. We do not leave... we are left.

This writer loves the man she has come to worship. It took time to allow herself to stop being afraid, it took time to stop being numb, it took time to break through her own walls and to feel something other than the shadow of the love that she knew she was capable of, and she made it. She is free of her first hurdle, and she will continue to work towards resolving the rest.

She loves him without reserve, even though she is afraid. She loves him with depth and passion even though she fears loving him too much. She loves him with the undying intensity of a poet.

Lost in the Quiet Place

It happens slowly.

I reach out when I'm at my weakest. I speak the truths I've always thought were too heavy, the things I think about.

I speak of my perception, my feelings, in an attempt to ask for help. I reach out and risk my heart. I am vulnerable. I am weak. I need you.

I need you.

But you can't understand me. You make light of it and I force a smile..  a sad smile of knowledge... I don't think you will ever understand me.

I sink further into myself.

I need you more than ever. I need to feel that you're there for me... I need to feel loved. I need to feel just a little bit of tenderness ... a kind word ... tell me you love me anyway.. tell me you miss me ... tell me you can't wait to be with me... don't make me feel abandoned here... stranded here alone. Don't make me feel that coming back to me is part of coming back to work...  can you make me feel special?

My heart hurts. I'm withdrawing into myself. Pulling myself in tighter. Curling up to keep myself warm. Protecting myself from the world around me.

You can't possibly need me the way I need you, miss me more than I miss you... love me more than I love you... because if you did ... I would feel it.
I would know ...

I'm not pushing you away... I'm hoping you'll see what's happening to me. I'm hoping you'll try to love me through it. Just show me that you care.

That's all I need from you. Three simple words. I can't ask for them. They have to be given willingly.

I know you disregard my emotions as small, insignificant problems. I know you think I make a big deal out of nothing. I know you don't know how to handle me.

These  are things I can't show you. I can't teach you how to love me. How to hold me. How to make me feel safe and loved and cared for.

What hurt me most was when you said that you feel this way sometimes . ... But you never told me. I have also failed to give you what you needed... And for me that was a crushing blow.  I only ever wanted to give you everything. Love, support, a warm embrace at the end of a long day...

I've failed ...

My world is imploding. Sucked into my core. I'm left in silence.

I don't need other people to want me or tell me I'm pretty or sexy...i don't want to be watched by strangers... I want you. I want to strip for you. Open myself up for you. I want to be wanted by you...
You have me. All of me. You own me.

You don't realise just how much I'm giving you.

Show Me Love

Discontent brews inside me like a slow cloud of darkness, it fills me slowly. I am aware of it when I am at my weakest.
I see it clearly.

I know I haven't been perfect, but I never claimed to be.

I hide.

Do you wish you were where I am when we are not together? Do you miss me at all?

Do you look for me in the spaces of your mind, or in pictures? Or do your eyes seek another? I find no solace in time, nor peace in the space of your absence. I find only small doubts that all flicker in the light of your small actions and words.

I have gone cold by trying to stop myself from feeling the emptiness and sadness that fills me when I think of all the things that show me that what I fear is true...

But if I'm temporary, then why keep me? Why let me stay and try to give you everything I can, when you pull away and withdraw?

I know my sins are great, but is it possible for you to forgive me? To still love me? Is it possible for you to hold me when I'm at my worst?

Can you find it inside you to love me the way I need to be loved? Can you look beyond my flaws and into me? Right into me? Can you attempt to understand me?

And what does it matter anymore?

Being alone and away from you has shown me that I survive with difficulty when separated from you for too long. It's also shown me that you're perfectly fine without me.  That distance and time make no difference. It has shown me that when I am falling apart, you will still do what you need to do,  even if I need you. I wouldn't have been so selfish as to keep you from sleeping, but I needed you.

I needed you; I don't know if you knew it or not. I know that I couldn't ask for you to stay.

I know that I wanted you, I needed to feel that you were close, that you love me... I needed to feel missed, wanted... Needed... Cared for... Safe.

I don't feel safe.  I feel replaceable. I feel like an outsider.  I feel like I'm a stranger to you. But unlike a stranger, you're not excited anymore; being with me has become routine. I'm invisible. You no longer see me as a woman who is beautiful, strong, fierce and a mystery. You've lost interest. You simply stopped seeing me.

I don't feel fulfilled or satisfied... I feel empty... The question is: do I only feel this way when we are apart? Or do I feel like this when I'm with you?

I know I've felt it. I know you've hurt me in many ways. I know I've taken it and said nothing...

But, my love, small hurts are like needles, pushing doubts deeper and deeper into my skin, my heart and my mind. Until they are all I can taste, and all I can see.

They sting... Even if you say you were joking... There's always truth there behind it. There's always the thought.

When I decided to surprise you at headquarters when I got pulled off KL, I was so nervous. I was worried that you wouldn't be happy to see me.

When I told you I would have been happy just to see you for 5 minutes, and waking up in the middle of the night and the long bus ride would have been worth it... I should have guessed you'd make it into a joke... But it hurt. It hurt to the point where I thought about getting out. Just to prove a point. That words hurt, that I was already feeling anxious because I didn't know if I'd be welcome, and it's a feeling of rejection.

Instead of being hugged, I was being pushed away.

So a part of me wanted to leave. I wanted to run and hide in shame because I saw it as a trespass. I wasn't supposed to be there. I wasn't supposed to be there, but I was... And I felt bad about it. I felt small and awkward again... Two feelings that I feel a lot.

I don't know what you want. I don't know how you feel. I don't know anything.

All I know is that it's been weeks since you've told me that you miss me. You say you love me, but it sounds like an afterthought. You swap onto flights that give us less time together... It feels like you're avoiding me.

If you're trying to avoid me then just leave me... Don't keep hurting me.

Capitulation

It occurred to me that there's a world of difference between loving and being in love.

And I think that is where we might be now.  Infatuation has cooled into tolerance, lust has cooled into indifference, desire has turned into occasional interest.

We both deserve more.

Where Do I Go From Here?

The slow disintegration is accelerating.

I will likely be told I'm delusional. That I'm imagining things, or making things up.

We are coming apart and the looser I hold on the more distance is created. And I am tired of holding on so tight. I'm tired of putting in so much and for it to go unnoticed. I'm tired of doing all I can and feeling that I'm slowly fading out.

... And Then Perfection

Could one be any more blessed?

Love, as always is too small a word to describe what I feel.

I feel as though I could burst.

Don't Look Back

t's dark.

Light fails, it's cold and I am not needed, but I stay.

I have nothing to offer but love. I can give nothing but me.  It's not enough.

There are demons hunting you, haunting you, following you wherever you go and I can't see them, I don't know who they are or what they want but I feel their presence.

I feel them pulling at you,  demanding your attention, draining you and pulling you down and I can't save you, I can only stand by in silence and feel you fade away.  Feel you withdraw and put up walls that separate us. I can only stay where you left me and wait for you to come back.

What you don't know is that your flight is my fight, your pain is my pain, your war is mine and I am ready to stand by you, to face the demons and weather the storms that will come. I'm right here.

Maybe I can't help, but use me. Spill your secrets into me. I know it's heavy, I know I will suffer as a result. I know I will be shaken. I know I will have to be strong and take it all without blinking. I will have to stay still and let you tell everything and perhaps find a small measure of peace in doing so.

Put the Lights Out and Hold Me

Dim the lights and let silence fall around us as we close the spaces between us. 

I Love You... But I Can't Tell You

1.8.17

I keep my words tucked into my heart. I am afraid to speak. One word can drag the rest out of me, and you don't want them.

It is so hard not to say something, but the frustration that will follow will only hurt me more. Because I know you'll ignore what I say.

So... I keep it simple. I say nothing but good morning. I write everything else here for myself. My pain. My disappointment. My fears. My insecurity. My lack of hope.

I say good morning. Everything else is here. The way I feel. The way I love... the pain it causes when I know that if I were to show how much I love him and his place in my heart he would ignore it.

I'm torn up inside.

I want to share my feelings.  I also want to receive the same in return.

... and then the fall

You hurt me.

And now I slowly try to heal, picking up my broken pieces, my shattered soul, my crushed heart.

It's only a casualty of my insane depth of feelings. I let my feelings overwhelm me, crash through me, and the result was abandonment, rejection, being pushed away and ignored.

I tell you you're everything to me.
I tell you that I need you.
I tell you everything I feel, the depth of it all.
I suffocate under it.
It kills me slowly.
... And you don't see it. You ignore it.  You don't care.

I tell you that I love you. I tell you that I miss you. I tell you that I need you. I need you. I need you. I am all but begging for you to notice, to feel me, to simply show me that you also love me, miss me, and need me. Show me that there's some small space that is empty without me. Show me that I give you something that you need, something that you can't get anywhere else.  Show me that I make a difference. Show me that I am not just some girl who plays no part in your life. Show me that I have a place in your heart. Show me that I'm important to you. Show me that you care. Show me that you really do need me, not only physically but in every other capacity.

You are a part of me. You're my heart. Everything I do happens with you in my mind. Everything I feel is related to you.

You don't just hurt me, you show me that there is little empathy when it comes to me. You see me as unworthy of your time, thoughts and feelings.

Perhaps you think I was being dramatic when I was only opening up myself to everything I feel, which is normal. When a person feels the way I feel it's only normal to be overwhelmed by it. To feel it so completely that it overrides all other senses. My whole body vibrates with its intensity. It's more than love. It's more than the words "I miss you". I give every part of me. You have more in me than you can imagine. And you don't want or need it. That's the truth.

You simply don't understand me. You don't see me.

You only need some of my love, not all of it. You only need some of my time, not all of it.  You only want the parts of me that are strong, you can't handle my weakness. And that is why when I am at my weakest you reject me. You look past my pain. You look away from my tears. You ignore me when I'm broken. You only want me when I'm whole and smiling and "normal".

The open, raw, gush of pure unhindered emotion is what you don't want.

I'm not sure I can take being kicked when I'm down. I need to feel supported when I'm weak. I need to be loved completely. Through my pain. Through my breaks. Through my slow failings of reason. I need compassion, patience, understanding, empathy...

I need a man who isn't afraid of me when I'm weak. Who is strong enough to hold me when I'm breaking, who wants to be there for me when I'm in the most need of kindness. All I wanted was love. All I needed was to be held together until I could breathe. All I needed was you. And you couldn't give me that.

We are in this thing together. I give you everything that I need in return. There's nothing I ask for that I'm not prepared to give. In fact there is a lot I give that I would never ask for.

Do you think I would abandon you if you were broken? Do you think I'd ignore your feelings and focus on myself? Do you think I would make you feel alone when you needed me the most?

You have hurt me in ways you can't understand. I suspect you don't even know you've hurt me.

I'm only a woman.

I'm half of our whole. But you make me feel like I have no place in your world. I'm broken. I came to you with my pieces in my hands, crying because I was in pain, shivering with cold, fragile, alone, and you weren't there.

In the aftermath, when the storm passed and I tried to fix myself, I came to you ... And you were cold. You didn't care. You didn't even acknowledge my words... My small feeble attempts to get close to you. I needed your warmth. I needed your love. I needed you because you're my boyfriend. Not some random person I unloaded my feelings on to. You're the reason i feel the way I feel. You're at the centre of it all. You're the cause of my feelings, you're the one who I love to the point of insanity. You're the one I miss to the point where I can't breathe without you. You're the one who I think about, care about, and love with such crushing force that it breaks me. You're mine. I'm yours. But you only want me when I'm not in need of you.

And now I can't bring myself to tell you I love you, even though it's all I feel. Even though the feelings are still there and I can't help myself... I can't say them because you'll flippantly say that you love me more and that in itself hurts because how is it even possible?

Because that would mean that in your eyes the love you give to me is more than what I give to you... And i feel that nothing could be further from the truth. I wish it were not true. I wish I could feel that we give to each other equally, but we don't.

You couldn't possibly love me more.

So I keep my words to myself. I keep what I feel inside.  And you wonder why I feel the need to hide. This is why. This is the reason why I can't share myself fully with you. Not because I don't try. But because you can't understand or see it. Imagine if I gave you all of my love, in its pure undiluted form... you'd leave me.

I'm your girlfriend, I haven't identified myself as that before. I haven't been wanted in that way before. You claimed me as yours.  You wanted me.  And I didn't fight it, I let myself fall in love with you in every sense and meaning of the word. Maybe if you'd known what being loved by me would be like, you wouldn't have chosen me.

I love you. And it hurts.

(1st August 17)