shit.

shit. fuck even. its just one of those days. i feel ugly. not neccessarily on the outside, but from the inside. i feel like too much and not enough. too much for someone to know how to love well, but not enough to keep them captivated. not enough for anyone. and i fear there is no one on this earth that is capable of actually knowing how to handle me, or even wanting to; all my shit, all my fucked up thoughts and feelings and all the ways i carry around old hurts and old joys. i am a pile of battered faces. i am a heap of bruises. i am a mystery and i am a song that's been overplayed. shit.



there's something about love that i cannot enter into. not yet. and maybe never. its this deep, abysmal unknown, amazing, brutal, tear you to fucking shreds part of love that i just can't seem to grasp. and the deeper i go in allowing myself to love someone, to be loved back, the more and more i see this dark hole approaching, and it scares the hell out of me. because i know that it is both horrifying and glorious. i don't know if i am ready for that. the thought of reaching that point with another human being... well, it seems near impossible. i have never gotten so close to this realm of love as i am right now in my life. and even then, it is far from close. i feel too small for this. there must have been some kind of mistake. some kind of mixup in the creating of human kind, for this kind of love is too big. it's too big for anyone or anything to even begin to know how to be a part of. and so it ends up destroying us in every way. or maybe it doesn't. maybe it saves us in every way. my words stop here because i begin to linger on the edge of the unknown. i want to be destroyed. i want to be saved. i want to be completely engulfed and enraptured and compelled by this place of love. i want to find my home there. i have to. everything i thought i knew about love, i don't. everything i thought i knew about knowing how to love well, i don't. everything i thought i knew about letting myself be loved, i don't. my heart is a blank canvas. i am covered in red. i see something completely brand new. i never knew this kind of love was real; this kind that goes so far beyond friend love, family love. its a choice.

i am an empty name. i am a box of suggestions; an answer to a question never asked. shit.