File type: Acrobat Portable Document (.pdf) [Download]
-----------------------------------------
Could not generate preview text for this file type.
-----------------------------------------
Could not generate preview text for this file type.
I haven't posted anything in such a long time, that was mine, that I felt...strongly compelled to change that.
This lead me into a bit of snakehole, back into strings of thought I'd already struggled often with--which is that I just do not belong in the same world everyone else does. I can't play emotional games with people's heads and hearts, the way those I've said "I love you" to, are able. It's not in my bones. It's not in my blood. And the more I find--about folks' general selfishness--the more I find myself wishing myself bereft my own heart. I wish, sometimes, that I could be more like everybody else--like the abusive ex who seemed to have it in his head that LetterKenny was an acceptable guide for how to treat other human beings. Or the ex who thought to fake a mental illness well-known within my Familie, so she could try to get away with being caught cheating. Or the other ex who had another lover--right in front of me--and let me spend two years hating the wrong person for our ended relationship, rather than be honest.
None of these people knew me as well as I thought they did--enough to realize I'd forgive them if they were just honest with me. Or, perhaps, they knew I'd forgive them and instead thought it'd be better if I didn't--so instead they tossed my heart in the garbage can each time.
I wish I could care as little as they cared.
Sometimes.
But if the price of fitting into the greater whole of the world is to be a soulless, blind, dead creature who has no concept of existence beyond themselves--then I will pick loneliness. I'll let people call me edgy, strange, or delusional--on the off chance that what I've experienced can someday be the thing that gives someone hope enough to be themselves too.
I say this to that world and those creatures:
A Heart for Sale
--I wrote this a little after watching a video on YouTube and realizing that my family would never care enough to have a funeral--for me--which would honor me or my identity. My Familie, on the other hand, certainly.This lead me into a bit of snakehole, back into strings of thought I'd already struggled often with--which is that I just do not belong in the same world everyone else does. I can't play emotional games with people's heads and hearts, the way those I've said "I love you" to, are able. It's not in my bones. It's not in my blood. And the more I find--about folks' general selfishness--the more I find myself wishing myself bereft my own heart. I wish, sometimes, that I could be more like everybody else--like the abusive ex who seemed to have it in his head that LetterKenny was an acceptable guide for how to treat other human beings. Or the ex who thought to fake a mental illness well-known within my Familie, so she could try to get away with being caught cheating. Or the other ex who had another lover--right in front of me--and let me spend two years hating the wrong person for our ended relationship, rather than be honest.
None of these people knew me as well as I thought they did--enough to realize I'd forgive them if they were just honest with me. Or, perhaps, they knew I'd forgive them and instead thought it'd be better if I didn't--so instead they tossed my heart in the garbage can each time.
I wish I could care as little as they cared.
Sometimes.
But if the price of fitting into the greater whole of the world is to be a soulless, blind, dead creature who has no concept of existence beyond themselves--then I will pick loneliness. I'll let people call me edgy, strange, or delusional--on the off chance that what I've experienced can someday be the thing that gives someone hope enough to be themselves too.
I say this to that world and those creatures:
Fuck your "normal."
Category Poetry / Abstract
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Any
Size 120 x 120px
Comments