You want me when I’m sunny and smiling as if I have complete fullness in myself but you reject the dark in me that so desperately needs to be. You’re only happiest when I have the best of me around but truth is, that just aint often enough for you. Why can’t you understand that I’m blemished and soiled? I’m not gonna walk a straight line without bending just to suit your illusion of me.
The other night while at dinner, you tried to gesture to me to sit up straight and stop talking to the voices in my head as if you were embarrassed. You hurried through your meal without giving my smile a single glance. But as soon as we got home alone, you fucked me wildly and called my name out repeatedly as if you were proud of me somehow in that very moment. You’re so completely satisfied in my vulgar bedside manner that you’d kill yourself if I ever kept it from you. You like the way I put all of me in your mouth and how I take all of you in mine but you can’t stand when I open it to speak.
You want to keep me silenced and pretty so I won’t expose my unbearable truth to your friends and family. So we both pretend that I’m this perfect girl, all qualified just so I can be stamped for approval. We seem to be a long way from our beginning. I recall you once saying how you loved the dim in me. Said it satisfied your high and I was all you needed. But as soon as my mental flip began, it’s become your best kept secret.
I remember how much effort it took for you to say that you loved me that first time. You took me whole, in your mouth just like you do and crawled eagerly inside of me as you began to whimper like a little boy. Your tears seemed real enough so I gestured it back and from that day forward, you learned how to tolerate my conduct and I continued to to pump up the volume where it mattered most.
We’ve seemed to have made it work for the most part, at least until you become less full of me again, which proves to be often enough. It’s as if you seem to only be satisfied with the notion of me. I amuse you and at best,fulfill your grimy needs. But when I’m in my lowest despair, and you’re high has been blown, you could care less about my addiction to you. It’s sort of funny really because everyone loves you, even me. You’re easy to be around and are always the life of the party. But it’s only because you need everyone to accept you more than they notice me.
Truth is, they all love me in spite of myself. All this time, even during the silence, everybody knew. They knew about my disproportion and all the in-between but hardly cared. You were the only one too busy trying to portrait me over. And while doing that, somehow, you managed to only paint mine more vividly while managing to distort your own.
How sad. While trying to silence me, you only hushed your own voice. I may always have the voices, just not yours as the loudest one in my head anymore. You see, you’re the only true grim in my life. You keep me down and smaller than you. It’s ok to have my rainy days. I know that now. Because when the clouds break, and they will, I’ll be sunny and smiling again. You just won’t be around to see it. So fuck off and let me sit in my darkness.
Tags: Break-Up, Despair, Emotions, Fiction, Healing, Meloncholy, Poetry, Storm, Thoughts, Writing
