Is it okay if I share all these things? What is it like to be loved? What is it like to be alright and not just pretend to be alright even if you’re pretending without noticing? What is it like to be stable? What is it like to love someone? What is it like to feel like you’re not so alone?
Why does it never last? Why do the good times feel so short and the bad times feel so long? Why is intimacy so scary? Why do people make fun of me when I’m just being myself? Why is it funny?
Is it funny? I don’t think it’s funny. I see the future sometimes, but I’m never sure if it will happen or not until it does. When it does I feel as if my whole life has been written down in a book somewhere, with my past, current, and future actions, thoughts, words, and feelings. I hope that book has a good ending. It would be a shame if it didn’t. At least I think so. But maybe what matters most is what’s in between.
My friend told me that I don’t slow down to process things and then I just blurt out whatever I feel whenever I feel it. I think this is how I process things. Writing… isn’t that nice? I wanted to be a poet, or a writer, but I lost all my inspiration when I stopped suffering. Somehow it was easier to write when I was in the most excruciating pain. Now I only have this chronic, “numb” type of pain. That type of pain doesn’t inspire, it just slowly eats at you. That’s what I think anyway.
This is a poem I wrote:
Hate, love, and indifference
What is it this time?
I want to love you, I want to love me
What do I feel? Nothing is real
I hate you, I hate me, I dont care
I want to be me, I want you to feel
I want you to know, these feelings are real
I want you to hate me, I want you to die
I want to end it and not be alive
You are my star, you are my light
You are what makes everything worthwhile
You are beautiful, more than you know
You are the only thing that I can see
But does it really matter?
This love, for me, it only gives pain
Could I feel again?
This love, it doesnt exist
This love, I imagined all of it
1 comment
I’m only a little more stable than you dude. I have a wife, so that is stability. One thing to consider is that I had a wife before and when that fell apart it was very much because she screwed it up. I knew how to be married when I was 10 years old. My parents modeled it pretty well. It’s like camping.
Have you been camping with a troop? You make sure everyone eats, and everyone feels attended to. That’s how families operate, and a family of two isn’t any different. It’s a little more affectionate. You’re a little more attracted to your family members…. remember that I’m bi.
The thing is that on the damn medications I’m on my sexuality is heavily repressed right now. That and the stress, and the heat. So yeah, it’s just a never ending camping trip, in nicer accomodations.
I’ve gone through my life being noticed and included, feeling wanted and loved by lots of people, that’s the currency I’m rich in. I’ll never go hungry or be homeless, let’s put it that way. It’s a curse too in a way though. It doesn’t make a person too financially responsible. I’m a little vain and overinvested in my own projects.
Being loved also means having a bunch of people you worry about dying before you and breaking you heart into a million pieces.
So that’s what it is like. Being loved is complicated. It’s knowing you don’t deserve any of it, but enjoying it just the same.