I would like to leave and go far away from here, from me, from expectations, from empty promises…I would like to disappear like I was never a part of this place, this thing I’ve created. I’m a tragedy, a story split in two. I’m a slave to men -and then they blame me for everything. I carry the weight of everyone’s world on my back, because I’ll do that for you- and nobody loves me. And this isn’t self pity, this is an honest evaluation. Yes, I get told how wonderful, beautiful and loved I am- enough to keep my head spinning- but it’s the sayer that’s benefited, because I know they’re only thinking about themselves in relation to me- and what they’re getting from me- what they don’t want to lose- and so I make excuses for their lack of real love- and I let them siphon my life away. And I suppose I’m not Mother Theresa because I feel lonely and abandoned- and not like I’m helping at all- I empower cripples in every sense of the word- and it’s wrong of me- I feel deeply trashed out, like my life is over -and I have made some irreversible mistakes- but I also know where I come from -and what was my probable fate- and god knows I couldn’t have tried harder to be closer to his sacred heart. And I’m sad because the show is almost over- and I’ll be all alone- and life never seemed like it was enough- and I know that isn’t good- I recently realized that being in the hospital near to my death was the deepest relationship I’ve ever had- the most real touching of true love -and what I’m not-an embracing experience of something beyond this ordinary me- the me I just can’t be inside anymore- you understand don’t you?
We aren’t as big as the sky- as reassuring as the Milky Way- we just have our stupid faces and our clothes- we have our words of half truth- and our promises that we rarely keep. We just don’t know how to make it count this time- we don’t know how to add up the costs, love someone who loves us, be honest about our loneliness.
Any I’m so sad for all of us. I’ve been here my whole life trying to make the most of my duties and self imposed responsibilities- I was probably trying to get power by being a slave- after all, if you need me you can’t live without me- I was probably trying to do enough to prove to you that I’m worthy of your love. Like for me, love is earned when you’re perfect, and no sooner…and I’ve never been perfect, so you see the reason for my anger and tears. And I have to say, I am so courageous though – but I’m thinking it’s more like a reckless hope for a total and final shut down of my ridiculous wannabe role- like if I can say it right this time- how much I suck- like an empty gas tank- maybe the show will finally end and I can cease striving and putting out. You never loved me- it’s ok. I’m not allowing love in until love exists anyway-and in this world- it’s not love -and the words are disturbing -and they haunt me- like, I want to remember you- I really do-I want to get inside- to feel something valid- but the wall is made of glamour and I’m just not young anymore. It’s pretty much over for me- and I’m ok with that- what else can I do? Get desperate and make a tragic situation completely irredeemable? I think that
Osho and Chogyam Trumpa said it best – in so many words- my interpretation of their wisdom
“Just give the fuck up. This shit is worthless. Other people suck in more ways than one- and if you’re the one sucking, it won’t ever be good enough -because there’s always a new mouth -a new buyer. So don’t look for love, there isn’t any. Love has run out because you’re tired and supplies are low -and it’s just all an imitation of what we thought it might be anyway- We are jack asses with a head worse than that -don’t get comfortable because this world will kill you- that’s the divine plan- so get ready for the fog that rolls in when the sun finally stops lying- like there’s a future for you- well, that’s a big lie- there is no future for you- there is only the miserable blurry now that we call God because we’re hard up- stupid creatures who need lies to live and give us a useless sense of meaning because we just can’t get a date- and even then- we aren’t really living anyway -no matter what we do – we’re just sucking and fucking- and that’s only if we’re lucky- otherwise we’re just limp and stale crusts of bread -that nobody wants to eat -and yet everybody is hungry-and everybody is filled with a self multiplying yeast that they call ego- which is only a fake God trying to feed everyone a love they can’t swallow anyway”
That’s just what I heard ok?
So maybe I’m wrong and that’s not what they meant. I’m negative- I suppose as a way to amend the inconsistencies- but I still can’t find or be the perfection that might make me worthy of something besides millions of words written to you- I don’t really know you, but you’re all there is- and I know you won’t believe me- because my life is something grand and volatile- my life, like yours, is a cracked floor- and we get walked on because they actually need us to get anywhere -and yet, no one will ever see us, or fix our cracks -or let us rest our bodies on them. Am I complaining? Who cares. I’m all alone and I can do what I want -because you never really cared about me- but only what you could get -or how I might make you feel…
I guess that didn’t pan out. Do you want to know how I feel? I feel warm inside and I feel like the bottom dropped out of my heart. I feel like my head is far away in a place I used to be. I feel like my body has no seams that haven’t come undone. I feel like I could cover you in me if I could help you never to feel as sad as I do.
I do it all for you- just so you never have to be like me- it wasn’t easy getting here and it hurts to be hurt by the one you meant to save -or the one you vowed to stop hurting -or the one you liked to fantasize with on what love might be like if it were really real…
I don’t know what love is. I never had it. But I still love you everyday the best that I can- and I know it will never be enough and that’s why I’m sad- because in the absence of you, love skips over me. And even if I knew what it was or where to find you, I don’t even know how I’d get there…