Tell Me Your Secrets.
This will be fun for you. You'll get to watch someone's life fall apart and not have to be a part of its dismemberment.
I don't mind any more, because I've been doing this for so long.
There went break down number 2. We'll call it that because I've lost count, the only one I can remember is the one last week. And if I was feeling motivated enough, I could go back through this and remember all the times it happened before.
My brother called right after I said good bye to you and ripped the phone cord out of the wall. He didn't buy the house that would get me out of Montana, allow me a place to start over. So I'm staying here with all of my broken pieces, because there's no where else for me to go.
In an effort to make me feel better, my mom listed off all of the places I have family, where I could stay. The last place she said was Seattle, and it was then that I asked her to be quiet. She gave me a hug, and I started crying. And, I kept crying, and I'm still crying. I'll keep crying until they're all out, because there's no place for them to go either, except for into kleenex.
I told her that I just couldn't deal with how many times people tell me what they would do if they were here because the fact is they're not. You're not. Nor will any of you be. You didn't have to hit me in the face with that now. You could have told me that I was never going to see you three weeks ago. If you knew that, couldn't you see where I was going?
You. Will. Never. See. Me.
I don't want to know. It hurts me every time someone tells me what they wish they could do. It kills me. It fucks with my head, to see that someone wants to share space, to know that it will never ever happen. Everytime I read, and re-read it made everything concrete, thoughts I should have never allowed myself to have.
This is not Diaryland's fault. If you didn't want it to go past "Hi" you should have stopped it. That's your responsibility. We could have stayed there, but you wanted more than clipped messages. YOU did.
I can see now, motivations. Maybe you said those things so that I would keep my hope, and not do what I did today. I'll make you like every one else, and you all want me here, waiting on the other side of the phone line for all the times you want to talk, and none of the times that I do. You're never there when I need you to be, none of you have been. I'm not going to be the subject of any feelings because you managed to keep those out, and good for you. I'm glad that you could do that, because it makes me feel better to know I'm the only one hurt in this.
The fact remains that when I put my heart into something, that very thing continues to fuck me over. And I swear that a month ago, I said these same words. That I was going to stop listening to my heart, and I'm just not able to live the way that you can, or he can, or any one else that wants a piece of me can.
Today I just don't know how many times I can keep doing this. I already feel badly for the person that decides I'm worth the chance, because I don't want it any more. I want for nothing, because nothing feels so much better than this.
I don't know how many times I can be the person that no one wants. I don't know how many times I can not be in the right place at the right time. I don't know how many times I can take falling down.
I have some comfort in being here now, because I know that I can be left alone if I choose to shut this off. And I know you'll never call, and I know you'll never show up. I know I'm safe from you. But, you'll all have that little piece that just fucking can't give up hope that someday it's going to work. Someday, someone, somewhere is going to want to try. Someday, that song is really going to be about me.
I'd rather burn that painting than keep it. So I guess that's what I'll do, when I'm finally done crying.