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2004-08-09 4 8:05 p.m.
they tell me that every man should have his heart broken at least once in life. the inherent wisdom w/ which that nugget is laden isn't enough though, to comfort when actually experiencing it. when you've poured everything you are & have been for the past 1095 days into one person & they decide to lay it back at yr feet & walk away...
it isn't something to be well-taken. isn't something that can(?) be well-taken?
it's been at least 2 years since i've felt this torn. & that isn't just a word, it's a state of being. it's an actual condition of heart: rended...ventricle from ventricle.
"is it my place? to put a smile on yr face?" (c) Sage
it isn't pain. it's ache. it's low & throbbing & never-ending. i work 4-5 hrs a day in the library, moving b/n shelves & placing books in their correct alphabetical positions. 4-5hrs of thinking a week is over 30 hrs of torturous voices & questions & arguments & doubts & wondering & hope that you pull a sledgehammer out & shatter yrself.
i talked to Mike & realized that everytime smthg like this happens, you go back to thinking how it could have been avoided. all the way back to the wrong choice of girl you must've made. 'cuz there's always choices. & you always, as excruciating as it may be, end up focusing yr energy on one. & when it erupts in yr face, it's like a devoted devil takes up residence on yr right shoulder, tauntingly muttering "i told you so" beneath his foul-smelling breath. & i'm sick to my stomach. & i'm 10, 15lbs lighter. & i go to sleep before 10pm some nights b/c i can't stand to think.
somewhere, i find the hope to hope against hope & that does nothing more than curse me to more disappointment. & at the end of the day, what's the point? 'cuz as much as i emote, as much as i lay bare the slug-riddled flesh of my heart...none of it can or will change the situation at hand. for perhaps the first time in my life, i've been decidedly unappreciated to my face...& having to face the reality of being the less desirable option for someone?
& the dishonesty of it all kills me -- why two people can't tell each other the truth, the unadulterated, uncolored, uncovered version of events & emotions so no misapprehension of the facts goes on. hasn't my heart had enough? haven't i?
ppl come to me & tell me how "we" shouldn't let this slip away b/c it's a really good thing. & for the first time i'm the one smirking pitiably & going...
"don't tell me."
there are no poems w/in my creative folds for this.
don't pretend to care for me. don't pimp my heart & my whole-heartedness where you are concerned. don't plead for my care/concern when yr only designs on it are for yr own edification. to build up smthg i'm not a part of. don't make a sucker out've me.
i'm tired -- of being talked abt as one, of being looked at as one, but most of all...
of feeling like one.
what i really want to say is "you owe me 3 years of my life"...
but all that comes out is quiet looks & penitence.
life provides no safety nets, no matter how high in the sky yr wire act may be performed.
"nobody nose...how i've got a bloody knows...or how they made it bleed" (c) Sage