Friday, August 10, 2012

Food, water, shelter.

She no longer takes care of herself.
You can see the sun through her skin, it's too thin (like eyelids). It won't hold a shadow.
Her hands are soft and pink and splotchy.
She won't stop trying to distract herself.
She won't turn and face her troubles instead of continuing these futile attempts to ignore them.
Somebody tell her to get a grip.
Caring for yourself takes more than this.
It's time to wake up.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Letterhead #16

Dear Jack,
I'm lonely when I'm with you.
Not always, but often.
I try so hard not to be sad around you.
Or if I am sad, not to let it show.

I don't want to tie my sadness to you.
Tie you to my sadness.
I told you that, once.
You said something like:
I'm sorry that you're sad, but it doesn't affect my mood.
You wanted to reassure me.
It did.
But it also made me feel
Sometimes I feel so lonely it feels as though I'm trying to breathe in Carbon Dioxide. 
Because, you're my person, and even you don't understand.
It was different when I was alone.
I was better at caring for myself.
Less focussed on you.
Less soft.
It was better.
I don't know if I can get better with you.
I can't breathe.

It's getting to the point where I am no fun anymore, I am sorry. / Sometimes it hurts so badly I must cry out loud, ' I am lonely.' / I am yours, you are mine, you are what you are, you make it hard.
-David Crosby