Reassure Me

My head spun with anxiety. All I wanted was to be in his arms but I didn’t feel like I belonged there. I looked at him with torn emotions and bolted out of the room without any explanation, running down the hallway and collapsing against a closet door.

Why did I always have to create such drama? If I just let things be, we could be happy…

I cried at my own weakness, my inability to let things go. My personal refusal to accept his love. I wanted to die. As much as I didn’t want to let him go, I felt guilty for having him. He was better than I. Curling up really small, I felt immature and stupid. My fears and incompetence swirled in my head and crawled to the back of the closet, feeling the cold walls touch my skin as if to further accentuate my point. I was alone.

Tears blurred my vision not that I would have seen much anyway in the dark armoire I had escaped to. Just kidding, it was a closet. My ears rung in my sorrow so all I could hear was the soft noises that were escaping from my own person. The shuffling of my limbs against the ground, the unsteady beating of my heart, the small release of each new tear as it fell from my face. I buried my face in my hands as if hiding into layers of darkness as if I was the center of a matryoshka doll set.

I didn’t hear him enter the room.
I didn’t hear him come to the closet and sit outside.
I didn’t hear him place his hand onto the wood, as if to reach out to me across an unbreakable boundary.
I didn’t hear him sigh as he questioned whether or not to open it.
I didn’t hear him slide the door open slowly so as to not startle me.
I didn’t hear him.

Not until he sat next to me and pulled me into his lap and asked me not to cry. He stroked my cheek softly and made sure that I felt his arms wrapped around me tightly like a shield of protection from the outside world. I looked up at him with shame and only saw concern and love that wouldn’t let me refuse his offer.

We kissed softly and I’m not really sure who initiated but it was wet with my tears and gentle with uncertainty. He pulled me in closer and pet my head to reassure me.

“I’m not going to leave you,” he whispered slowly, as if answering a question that I forgot to verbalize. “I love you.”

“You’re too good to me,” I protested with gratitude.

“I know,” he said with a smile as he kissed me again.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, not wanting for the embrace to ever end. He just breathed me in while nuzzling my cheek affectionately. I forgot that we were in a closet. I forgot my fears and my doubts. Caught in his embrace I could only think of how much he made me happy and how much I wanted to please him.

Cut

She gasped slightly at the sensation and felt a single tear fall straight from her eye to her shirt without touching her cheek. Her hand trembled at the completion and a wave of cold passed through her as she dropped the knife onto the ground. She heard its metal vibrate against the tile floor and quiet as a small drop plopped onto the blade after running down her hand. She stared absently at the pool forming on her flesh, unaware of everything except its color and warmth as it grew. Her arm became numb and it fell to her side but her eyes did not follow.

It’s unclear how long she stood there but she snapped back into focus when she heard the front door open.

Time to clean up.

Physical, Love

The people who associate physical action and proximity with love are in as much trouble as those who completely disassociate the two.

Poetry: My Decision is

He was resolute and she knew that she was unable to change his mind and knowing that fact alone caused a spear of ice to pierce her heart and make her tremble. Her mind couldn’t decide what to do, her body couldn’t choose how to react. She may have remained steady but on the inside she was unraveling and all she could think about was how to self harm. Not that she necessarily wanted to harm herself but she did not know how to deal with this. He had closed his mind, her heart ached in its uncertainty in whether it should break or close. She had never felt so alone as she did, standing there listening to him declare his course of action. She wanted to vomit.

Poetry: Virginity

She didn’t know what to expect but that wasn’t it.

Nothing lasts forever.

Poetry: Sorry

Sorry heart, for facing all that hurt. Sorry head, I thought I could change the world. Sorry tears, you shouldn’t need a reason to fall. Sorry soul, you were destroyed. Sorry brain, you couldn’t think of the right thing to say. All I have to do now is face the consequences.

Poetry: Mood Swings

He didn’t understand that high maintenance didn’t mean clingy. Even though I was. It didn’t mean constant crying. Even though I did. And it didn’t mean fastidious even though I am.

How could he have known that my ability to accept simple facts of reality would change depending on my disposition? That sometimes I’m confident and strong and can take on the world but there would also be times when I would question my worthiness to even know his name. When some days I can clean house in three hours flat, accomplishing in bounds the feats that even my imagination lacks when I’m low?

I’m not bipolar. I suffer no mental instability. But the call of my hormones is too strong to resist and I bend as they see fit, making me a puppet on a string, battered and broken, functioning as I’m moved but with no capabilities of my own.

Would he leave me if he knew? He protests that he will never leave me and that I’m his forever. But he also doesn’t know… doesn’t understand. This is how weak I am.