It doesn't matter whom I'm with, apparently. The feeling is still here.
Well, I have to be fair. This man who has been next to me isn't the one who's adding to the burning extremes in my eyes right now. It's just everything else. While I'm absolutely bursting inside, trying to reach out for help, I'm silenced. Every one of my screams, piercing through night air in a cold alley, is silenced. I'm standing alone, with every trouble dancing around my head. I can't see what is ahead of me, or what I am to do because of the fog. That fog that will haunt me for the rest of my life, I fear, because it's been here since I was young. Since things started going wrong.
My life. So perplexed by the dancing figures. Complicated. All at once because I was never taught how to solve my problems. I was never educated on how to ask for help. It's not a matter of being stubborn, but rather not understanding what to do in an odd sense. I don't open up to people; I refuse to. If I lean on someone, they'll only walk away. I can't take any support. Any support I may call my own could quickly turn away. And I wouldn't operate after that happened; I just couldn't.
And that's why I can't do anything with someone else. I'll live my life alone in one way, and with someone else in another way. I made that mistake once already; I got married. See where that got me? In a bad place. A terrible place. I never want to think about Richard again because he only reminds me of all the bad times we had when we were married, things and remnants that no one deserves to live. A cheating spouse, an abortion... a life gone wrong in a few short years. Trust abused and so much more. I ruined myself once and I won't do it again. Part of me is still twisted in the sense. I don't need trust going to anyone else. It isn't worth the risk anymore.
He's an amazing kisser. He kisses me like I'm not a piece of something. He's doing it right now. I'm not sure where his kisses are. All I know is that they're covering my body. Showering me with little packages of complete meaning in every place that desires them. I feel with every kiss that he gives me that its mine to keep. But I want to share it with him. Make it ours. And even if I'm not kissing him back, we're still sharing it.
I wish I could kiss him back. I wish I wasn't thinking these awful thoughts right now. It isn't fair to him. After all he's done to me, all these good things, I'm sitting here accepting them with thoughts that no one wants to hear.
So I force myself to. I force myself to kiss him. I love to kiss him. I love him. Sometimes I wonder if he knows that. I wonder if he loves me. And that's the reason I kiss him tonight, because I know that he cares about me. I don't know if he loves me, but I know that he cares about me. I wish I didn't have to drive a kiss to his skin now. I wish I could do it carelessly and free, with nothing on my mind but him.
It's gotten worse since Eric's arrest. Drug abuse. Damn, I had said to myself, I should have known. Later I had asked myself, how? How would I have known? I can't handle this. First my mother, now my brother? Thankfully, when I went to Nebraska, I found my mother completely sane and on her meds. If I hadn't been there to rescue Eric, I would have felt like leaping into her arms. Granted, I wouldn't have done it, but do you know what that feels like? How long have I waited for her to be like this? It took her so long to finally start regularly on her meds.
I just hope it lasts now.
She's my mother. I want her to be healthy. I want her to be safe. I do love her.
But now that Eric... what is wrong with Eric? I thought it would just be my mom. And now that Mom was okay, I thought that would be the end of all of the problems. All of the problems with the complicated mind disorders and diseases that have plagued my life.
I press my lips against his neck, pushing through a cloud in front me. He murmurs something against my right ear, and I can't hear it. I wish I could. My eyes are closed. I wish I could open them and see him, but I can't.
So I do.
However, I can't see his face. It's against my neck, my shoulders. My eyes have opened slowly, bringing the blank black of the room into one piece before my eyes. I can look down and see him on top of my body, his form shifting smoothly under the blankets. I twitch my fingers, attempting to locate them. Both of my hands are on the mattress, lying on either side of me. I bring them over his back, ready to settle on his skin, but decide against it and rest back to the surface of the bed.
His back arches slightly and he kisses deeper into my skin. If I hadn't been thinking so much tonight, I would be kissing him back. I would be kissing him with every feeling of love I feel right now. I love him more than anything. I wish I could cry it out to him...
But I don't want to do that. Tears will never solve anything, I say to myself. It's the driest, most unreal emotion there is. Tears are nothing but a mere bodily fluid, I believe. Its something I've grown up to believe. The older of two children where a mother takes no responsibility. It's a painted picture with my own colors, and the colors are those that paint hate and fear. They've ruined my life. My canvas, to go along with my metaphor.
You don't live off of metaphors. Life is real. And anyone who believes otherwise is a fool. I can't be a fool anymore. I've been this way too long. If I don't get wiser each day, with each experience that comes my way, I won't live for very long in this world. Not with what God had given me.
I kiss him again, closer to his ear this time. He detects it immediately and murmurs another something to my body. I hope I'll wake up and be able to hear what he's saying. I'm lying here with thoughts of awful things in my mind and wondering what he's whispering. Is he saying good things? What is he saying? Should I respond?
Maybe I can get away with an excuse. Call it more sensual if I stay silent. That way words won't get in the way. I'm afraid that if I talk, I might let something out that I wouldn't want to escape. So I stay quiet. Quiet against him, and quiet against the dark and every feeling equally as shadowed.
They're building up inside of me. They're threatening to escape and I can't let that happen. It's not me. It's not right. Every fiber of my own little being is knotted up inside of me and I'm just waiting for them to snap, with absolutely no anticipation. This stupid, unjustified world I call my own is in now way anything I'll ever, ever be proud of. Everything is seemingly random now. Incorporating itself into my mind, swearing to ruin myself.
And now there's a throbbing pain. I can pinpoint from where as he continues to caress my bare skin, but it's bothering me. More than a bother, and it's more than a nuisance. I won't be so poetic and spiritual: I don't think it's a heartache. It's something else. And it's threatening to kill me if I don't do something about it.
So I reach for the sides of his face and pull his lips away from me. I want to tell him something, but his eyes aren't focused on mine. He takes my face in his own two hands, rough with his scent, and traces every living feature on my cheeks. I want to pull him away again as he deepens for another kiss. I want to tell him that this is not what I want now.
I place a firmer set of hands on his shoulders. My eyes are gazing into his as he looks at me, eyes gleaming with question. I can't look at him. I see pain. He knows what I'm going through, and all he's trying to do is make me better. That's what I need, too. But I can't compromise. This is something that I'll have to do alone.
I close my eyes gently. I hope that the eyelids sealed together will forever block my mind, my heart of the image I last saw of him. The hurt, the confusion in him. I can't look at him again tonight. I've hurt him.
He eases away from me. My eyes press harder together. I feel his form lift from my body. I feel like screaming, letting out one stifled cry. I know he's going to leave my side this evening. I want him near me. But I don't. I can't.
I can't. I can't.
I feel his long arms against me now. He's lying close to me. He's warm. I want to be locked inside his arms' sweet hold and let him kiss me forever. Life isn't fair this way if I can't share my life with someone else. I need to get some help. Help from him, he can help me.
He breathes against my shoulder, careful not to get too near me. I'm stiff against the frame of the bed, lying there as a sacrifice to anyone who's willing to come and take me. Take my body, take my feeling.
I shake myself, shuddering quietly, and realize what I am thinking. I stir under the blankets and pull them up to right under my chin. My knees are brought to my chest, and I'm curled up against no one.
I need someone to curl against. Why can't I, when I already have someone?
-
I realize I've been asleep for some time. I comb any dry, sleepy feeling from my head and stand mentally. I'm awake, and staring at the ceiling, pressing a finger to each grain of it in my mind. The world: it's closing in on me now. I owe the world to the man next to me.
I turn my face to the pillow's strange comfort and recognize an old enemy - one crisp tear running down my face. I don't hesitate to wipe it away; it is less than a reluctant action, believe me. I immediately stand up, gaining the strength in my legs slowly, and softly raise my head.
I walk to the bathroom, outside of the bedroom. How many times... how many times have I done this now? I walk away. I *run* away. I wish I wasn't so associated with that scenario... but I do it to myself. I do. I *really* do.
I close the door behind me gently, the cold of the tile hitting me with little motivation. I'm not motivated to do anything but cry on the side of the bathtub in front of me. I want to collapse onto the ceramic somewhere in this lone room and give all my tears. And after that? After that I plan to head back to bed. And act as if nothing happened.
I can't let him know I'm this weak. He won't love me, and I want him to.
That's unlike him. I have a feeling he'll love me regardless, but only if he already does.
I sit myself down on the edge, a familiar ritual, and wait for them to come down my face and drop to the floor.
Waiting.
They begin without me processing it. Assembling together, a band of them plotting against me and running down my face. I wish I could hold them without sobs, but I can't. My sobs. My least favorite characteristic of myself. I cry the tears, and the sobs part from my lips like sad gasps. I wish I could make them stop. I don't want him to hear me.
I shudder slightly, the cold still touching me lightly, and the moonlit glow that I bask in finally getting to me. I only start into another strong sob when the door opens.
Before I can look up, he's there. I look up into his eyes, staring down at me. I can imagine what a sight I am right now, but I can't think. He holds out his hands and I contemplate what do to with them.
I reach out for one, and he rings me into a tight hug. We stand together in the moonlight pouring innocently into the window. Our shadow, the two of us together, dances on the wall as we sway back and forth. I can't hold back now. I cry for everything into his shoulder. His hand comforts my back, my head, my shoulders. I ball two fists and hold them against his chest, near his shoulders.
He lets me cry for a long time. And when it seems that they'll never subside, they do. That cloud of tears lifts and I quiet against his body. He kisses the side of my head, whispering to me.
"It's okay."
I shake my head and emit one more slight sob.
"I love you."
My entire body seizes, but I'm still crying. The words make me smile deep, deep down in my body somewhere, but I'm lost in his arms. All I can do is cry again.
He walks me back to our bed, his arms heavy around shoulders and a waist. I grip him back just as tight, if not, tighter, and let him whisper the words to me again.
I hug him. I can't speak. I hug him closely, letting out more feeling than I have with my cries tonight.
A moment later we're nestled into the bed, the sheets lying dryly around our bodies. I bury my face in his skin as he nuzzles my neck with the tip of his nose. I breathe out once more into him, sighing heavily into a mix.
He repeat: "I love you."
--
I sat down and wrote whatever came off the top of my head. It might have been too much like my "And All," thought wise, but I didn't plan this one and that's probably why. :)
Please review!
-mandy
Well, I have to be fair. This man who has been next to me isn't the one who's adding to the burning extremes in my eyes right now. It's just everything else. While I'm absolutely bursting inside, trying to reach out for help, I'm silenced. Every one of my screams, piercing through night air in a cold alley, is silenced. I'm standing alone, with every trouble dancing around my head. I can't see what is ahead of me, or what I am to do because of the fog. That fog that will haunt me for the rest of my life, I fear, because it's been here since I was young. Since things started going wrong.
My life. So perplexed by the dancing figures. Complicated. All at once because I was never taught how to solve my problems. I was never educated on how to ask for help. It's not a matter of being stubborn, but rather not understanding what to do in an odd sense. I don't open up to people; I refuse to. If I lean on someone, they'll only walk away. I can't take any support. Any support I may call my own could quickly turn away. And I wouldn't operate after that happened; I just couldn't.
And that's why I can't do anything with someone else. I'll live my life alone in one way, and with someone else in another way. I made that mistake once already; I got married. See where that got me? In a bad place. A terrible place. I never want to think about Richard again because he only reminds me of all the bad times we had when we were married, things and remnants that no one deserves to live. A cheating spouse, an abortion... a life gone wrong in a few short years. Trust abused and so much more. I ruined myself once and I won't do it again. Part of me is still twisted in the sense. I don't need trust going to anyone else. It isn't worth the risk anymore.
He's an amazing kisser. He kisses me like I'm not a piece of something. He's doing it right now. I'm not sure where his kisses are. All I know is that they're covering my body. Showering me with little packages of complete meaning in every place that desires them. I feel with every kiss that he gives me that its mine to keep. But I want to share it with him. Make it ours. And even if I'm not kissing him back, we're still sharing it.
I wish I could kiss him back. I wish I wasn't thinking these awful thoughts right now. It isn't fair to him. After all he's done to me, all these good things, I'm sitting here accepting them with thoughts that no one wants to hear.
So I force myself to. I force myself to kiss him. I love to kiss him. I love him. Sometimes I wonder if he knows that. I wonder if he loves me. And that's the reason I kiss him tonight, because I know that he cares about me. I don't know if he loves me, but I know that he cares about me. I wish I didn't have to drive a kiss to his skin now. I wish I could do it carelessly and free, with nothing on my mind but him.
It's gotten worse since Eric's arrest. Drug abuse. Damn, I had said to myself, I should have known. Later I had asked myself, how? How would I have known? I can't handle this. First my mother, now my brother? Thankfully, when I went to Nebraska, I found my mother completely sane and on her meds. If I hadn't been there to rescue Eric, I would have felt like leaping into her arms. Granted, I wouldn't have done it, but do you know what that feels like? How long have I waited for her to be like this? It took her so long to finally start regularly on her meds.
I just hope it lasts now.
She's my mother. I want her to be healthy. I want her to be safe. I do love her.
But now that Eric... what is wrong with Eric? I thought it would just be my mom. And now that Mom was okay, I thought that would be the end of all of the problems. All of the problems with the complicated mind disorders and diseases that have plagued my life.
I press my lips against his neck, pushing through a cloud in front me. He murmurs something against my right ear, and I can't hear it. I wish I could. My eyes are closed. I wish I could open them and see him, but I can't.
So I do.
However, I can't see his face. It's against my neck, my shoulders. My eyes have opened slowly, bringing the blank black of the room into one piece before my eyes. I can look down and see him on top of my body, his form shifting smoothly under the blankets. I twitch my fingers, attempting to locate them. Both of my hands are on the mattress, lying on either side of me. I bring them over his back, ready to settle on his skin, but decide against it and rest back to the surface of the bed.
His back arches slightly and he kisses deeper into my skin. If I hadn't been thinking so much tonight, I would be kissing him back. I would be kissing him with every feeling of love I feel right now. I love him more than anything. I wish I could cry it out to him...
But I don't want to do that. Tears will never solve anything, I say to myself. It's the driest, most unreal emotion there is. Tears are nothing but a mere bodily fluid, I believe. Its something I've grown up to believe. The older of two children where a mother takes no responsibility. It's a painted picture with my own colors, and the colors are those that paint hate and fear. They've ruined my life. My canvas, to go along with my metaphor.
You don't live off of metaphors. Life is real. And anyone who believes otherwise is a fool. I can't be a fool anymore. I've been this way too long. If I don't get wiser each day, with each experience that comes my way, I won't live for very long in this world. Not with what God had given me.
I kiss him again, closer to his ear this time. He detects it immediately and murmurs another something to my body. I hope I'll wake up and be able to hear what he's saying. I'm lying here with thoughts of awful things in my mind and wondering what he's whispering. Is he saying good things? What is he saying? Should I respond?
Maybe I can get away with an excuse. Call it more sensual if I stay silent. That way words won't get in the way. I'm afraid that if I talk, I might let something out that I wouldn't want to escape. So I stay quiet. Quiet against him, and quiet against the dark and every feeling equally as shadowed.
They're building up inside of me. They're threatening to escape and I can't let that happen. It's not me. It's not right. Every fiber of my own little being is knotted up inside of me and I'm just waiting for them to snap, with absolutely no anticipation. This stupid, unjustified world I call my own is in now way anything I'll ever, ever be proud of. Everything is seemingly random now. Incorporating itself into my mind, swearing to ruin myself.
And now there's a throbbing pain. I can pinpoint from where as he continues to caress my bare skin, but it's bothering me. More than a bother, and it's more than a nuisance. I won't be so poetic and spiritual: I don't think it's a heartache. It's something else. And it's threatening to kill me if I don't do something about it.
So I reach for the sides of his face and pull his lips away from me. I want to tell him something, but his eyes aren't focused on mine. He takes my face in his own two hands, rough with his scent, and traces every living feature on my cheeks. I want to pull him away again as he deepens for another kiss. I want to tell him that this is not what I want now.
I place a firmer set of hands on his shoulders. My eyes are gazing into his as he looks at me, eyes gleaming with question. I can't look at him. I see pain. He knows what I'm going through, and all he's trying to do is make me better. That's what I need, too. But I can't compromise. This is something that I'll have to do alone.
I close my eyes gently. I hope that the eyelids sealed together will forever block my mind, my heart of the image I last saw of him. The hurt, the confusion in him. I can't look at him again tonight. I've hurt him.
He eases away from me. My eyes press harder together. I feel his form lift from my body. I feel like screaming, letting out one stifled cry. I know he's going to leave my side this evening. I want him near me. But I don't. I can't.
I can't. I can't.
I feel his long arms against me now. He's lying close to me. He's warm. I want to be locked inside his arms' sweet hold and let him kiss me forever. Life isn't fair this way if I can't share my life with someone else. I need to get some help. Help from him, he can help me.
He breathes against my shoulder, careful not to get too near me. I'm stiff against the frame of the bed, lying there as a sacrifice to anyone who's willing to come and take me. Take my body, take my feeling.
I shake myself, shuddering quietly, and realize what I am thinking. I stir under the blankets and pull them up to right under my chin. My knees are brought to my chest, and I'm curled up against no one.
I need someone to curl against. Why can't I, when I already have someone?
-
I realize I've been asleep for some time. I comb any dry, sleepy feeling from my head and stand mentally. I'm awake, and staring at the ceiling, pressing a finger to each grain of it in my mind. The world: it's closing in on me now. I owe the world to the man next to me.
I turn my face to the pillow's strange comfort and recognize an old enemy - one crisp tear running down my face. I don't hesitate to wipe it away; it is less than a reluctant action, believe me. I immediately stand up, gaining the strength in my legs slowly, and softly raise my head.
I walk to the bathroom, outside of the bedroom. How many times... how many times have I done this now? I walk away. I *run* away. I wish I wasn't so associated with that scenario... but I do it to myself. I do. I *really* do.
I close the door behind me gently, the cold of the tile hitting me with little motivation. I'm not motivated to do anything but cry on the side of the bathtub in front of me. I want to collapse onto the ceramic somewhere in this lone room and give all my tears. And after that? After that I plan to head back to bed. And act as if nothing happened.
I can't let him know I'm this weak. He won't love me, and I want him to.
That's unlike him. I have a feeling he'll love me regardless, but only if he already does.
I sit myself down on the edge, a familiar ritual, and wait for them to come down my face and drop to the floor.
Waiting.
They begin without me processing it. Assembling together, a band of them plotting against me and running down my face. I wish I could hold them without sobs, but I can't. My sobs. My least favorite characteristic of myself. I cry the tears, and the sobs part from my lips like sad gasps. I wish I could make them stop. I don't want him to hear me.
I shudder slightly, the cold still touching me lightly, and the moonlit glow that I bask in finally getting to me. I only start into another strong sob when the door opens.
Before I can look up, he's there. I look up into his eyes, staring down at me. I can imagine what a sight I am right now, but I can't think. He holds out his hands and I contemplate what do to with them.
I reach out for one, and he rings me into a tight hug. We stand together in the moonlight pouring innocently into the window. Our shadow, the two of us together, dances on the wall as we sway back and forth. I can't hold back now. I cry for everything into his shoulder. His hand comforts my back, my head, my shoulders. I ball two fists and hold them against his chest, near his shoulders.
He lets me cry for a long time. And when it seems that they'll never subside, they do. That cloud of tears lifts and I quiet against his body. He kisses the side of my head, whispering to me.
"It's okay."
I shake my head and emit one more slight sob.
"I love you."
My entire body seizes, but I'm still crying. The words make me smile deep, deep down in my body somewhere, but I'm lost in his arms. All I can do is cry again.
He walks me back to our bed, his arms heavy around shoulders and a waist. I grip him back just as tight, if not, tighter, and let him whisper the words to me again.
I hug him. I can't speak. I hug him closely, letting out more feeling than I have with my cries tonight.
A moment later we're nestled into the bed, the sheets lying dryly around our bodies. I bury my face in his skin as he nuzzles my neck with the tip of his nose. I breathe out once more into him, sighing heavily into a mix.
He repeat: "I love you."
--
I sat down and wrote whatever came off the top of my head. It might have been too much like my "And All," thought wise, but I didn't plan this one and that's probably why. :)
Please review!
-mandy