Push

I just don't know how to stop.

I always push too hard, too soon, too much.

Then when it doesn't work, or somebody else gets scared or hurt... I pull in.

I pull in too hard, too soon, too much.

I scream. Oh god I scream on the inside when it all inevitably spirals downward.

I grab at anyone or anything that's willing to listen to my mistakes and words. I end up screwing things up with them too.

It's an endless cycle of emotional begging that I ask of people.

The sad thing is that the one person that's willing to listen is the one I pushed the hardest.

Tightness

Tightness.

A noticeable and not insignificant reduction in the rate in which you breathe.

You start to get shaky and every action takes a little bit more effort. You feel as if every muscle is straining against some invisible force to keep you in place.

You don't want to move because you feel as if you might stumble. You don't want to stumble because you don't want to draw attention to yourself.

Every effort seems worth it to push forward but you just want to crawl into a ball at the same time. You want them to look away and you want them to hold you and you want them both at the same time.

You want someone to care for you but you want to push them away. You want to push them away because you want someone to care for you but you can't reconcile these two things because every time someone gets close you can't take it.

Tightness. Fear. Anger? Not yours. Theirs. If they knew.

Sadness.

Deception.

What would it all mean if their world crumbled before their eyes because you spent so long propping it up that you didn't realize it was empty.

Like one of those beautifully crafted two foot deep Hollywood buildings that fall flat when you push them.

All the window dressing in the world won't hide what's behind the curtain. It's just gonna be you, standing there like an idiot with a hammer, a board, and some nails realizing that you have nothing to hold up anymore.

Even if they accept you for who you are without the window dressing you turn tail and run. You run and run and run because it hurts too much to realize that the deception you put up wasn't even necessary.

But you've spent too long showing them the other face to stay. It would be wrong. It would hurt them. Would it? Do they care?

I don't know if they do.

I don't know.

Dreamy Eyes

We were sitting in a booth opposite each other. My hands were on the table, palms down. She reached out and laid her hands over my own.

She looked at me, and was talking about how badly she felt. She told me that the reason it didn't work out was because she had some condition-- something about her eyes.

She took off her glasses so I could see. Her eyes were... animated almost. Their shape was fluid and fluctuating. It was almost as if I was staring into two black holes and couldn't quite focus on the irises, which sucked in all the light.

A few tears gently rolled down her cheeks. Her mouth moved but I don't remember the words. Small smiles were exchanged but inside I saw terror. I felt it too.

I don't remember feeling her hands on my hands. All I remember is looking down and being aware of their presence without the sensation.

It was like talking to a ghost.

Letters

I have a love/hate relationship with letters.

When someone special takes the time to physically write and hand you a letter, it feels like the greatest thing in the world. You want to cherish it, put it somewhere special, and keep it tucked close to your heart.

When someone special hurts you, letters fucking burn holes into your very core. You know you should toss it away, burn it, forget it somehow… but you can't. You still cherish the words that came out of the same mouth that's telling you something much harsher in the present. So you hold onto it. You get pangs of happiness and pain simultaneously, pangs that rip apart your insides and kiss the pieces.

You can't bring yourself to throw away the words because they meant too much to you in the beginning. And maybe, just maybe, they'll mean something to that special someone again.

This is why I have a love/hate relationship with letters.

Smile

Why is it that

when I think of you

I can't help but feel upset,

but

when I see your face

I only remember the times you smiled at me

the way you smile for your camera?

everything was such a drama for you, and i fell into it anyway, knowing this.
I'm afraid that knowing something doesn't stop it from affecting you anyway. It doesn't even help.

"I had no regrets until I met you. Now my regrets could kill me." 

Scorpio

Vulnerable scorpios can destroy what they love the most

a person, their body, their mind, or their integrity. a scorpio who has tumbled into a well of self

destructiveness can teeter on the edge of obliteration waiting for a hand to drag them back to the surface.

the bottom is where scorpio takes their deepest breaths,

waiting for the sorcery in their spirit to conjure something wild. when they lose their body and

all sense of self they find their soul. and it’s something a

scorpio can really feel if they go deep enough, they can feel the electricity of infinity charging

through them, they have a real intimacy with the cosmos that reside within. intimacy is more than sex with scorpio. it involves unwrapping secrets, scars, and

skin until nothing is left but subjection and exposure.

you knew this when you gave me the book

it was the last thing you gave me

the last line of the last thing you gave me talked about

the inferno we form by being together.

winter in gambier

I still go down to the construction even though its getting too cold for it now. I just end up standing there in the snow alone while nobody works on it. People have been saying for a while now that this is a haunted campus. I think i understand why. I dont believe in ghosts. Other people at work do, they tell these crazy stories. Someone said they saw a white figure in the middle of campus. People floating through the floor, stuff like that. I havent seen anything. But theres this feeling of loneliness. It hits me hardest when im down at the site. Feels like there should be two of us standing there. That hasnt left me yet.

I read somewhere that when you lose someoen you love, you lose everything they gave you too. But I keep reading calvino. Its one of the ways youre still haunting me. I know i shouldnt. But i read this book, over and over again. I keep thinking about the inferno. With the lonelyness, and this feeling like im spiralling into the air like a snowflake going nowhere and turning into no one. Melting in the light. Thats being a snowflake alright. It makes my head feel lke an inferno. These fucking headaches dont help. Last night i had a migraine so bad i threw up. Hope these go away soon.