I require a degree of emotional spine that most men do not have.
I need to be an extension of your soul. How I feel should affect how you feel. I need to be another limb of your body that you nourish, protect and heal when the case may warrant it.
I am not easy to handle. I can be impossible to understand. Completely inconsistent, uncertain.
Turning on a dime, I can then feel sure. Stand tall on both feet and demand that you stand with me in this confidence, even if you know it isn’t permanent.
I am a hurricane to anyone’s drizzle and therefore I will never be boring. A blessing and a curse, I make stability seem boring.
My ankles feel tight and I wonder if they’re reacting to the new medicine or the stress that just spiked in my blood.
Sometimes I hate Tumblr because unless it’s on a fucking picture, no one reads your words anyway.
I do not understand why you have to be so goddamned difficult. It makes sense to me to always care about someone but not be able to be with them.
I am not an extension of your soul. I am its kryptonite.
I am not another limb that you take care. I am another limb that throws you off balance. A limb that needs to be amputated before the infection corrodes your entirety.
You are perhaps someone who can heal me, but only from the damage we cause each other.
It is possible to love someone and not be able to be with them. If you love someone that much, you must let them go. I understand. I don’t think you do.
The ankle tingling is freaking me out.
Perhaps it is the weights that is this discord between us dragging me down.
I can start a lot of words with the letter D.
I can’t really finish my thoughts on this.
It’s best for you if you abandoned me entirely.
Let me shatter.
But who are we to cut our own limbs off, even if they are killing us?
Screw slow dancing in a burning room. We fucking salsa off skyscrapers.
That’s not sustainable.
I want to be your friend. I want you to be my friend.
But I don’t know if people that love each other as much as we have will ever just be friends.
There are the nights where I miss things.
I don’t know how to deal with the time.
And I am now hearing salsa music in my head as my ankles tingle.