Thoughts

I’m not the person you thought I was and I’m not the person I thought I could be because these words choke me up and I can’t concentrate until I let them out but perceptions change and everything will move on except change itself so why do I keep worrying about what you think of me?

Am I less for wanting more or do I keep changing because I’m a twin in me or so you say I should be if I let him take over do you know the destruction I could wreak?

If I loose control I’m scared that I will hurt you and hurt everyone because I know it’s wrong but I can’t stop wanting to hurt people so I bury myself in what I hope to be the truth and hope that one day I can become the mask completely and never look back to the person drowning in hate and jealousy that I once was and once loved to be.

The hate is strong but I want the love to be stronger and I hope that you’ll still be there waiting because even though we parted ways, part of me still misses you and the little things we did together.

If I run forever chasing your shadow I will never catch up because you’ve never walked in your entire life and you have never slowed down and your legs are that much longer. I can watch the distance grow with each step and though your voice I can still hear in my head I wonder how far I need to run before you will look back, stop and wait. I wonder if I even want you to.

I compare myself, I hurt myself, I delight in catharsis. So hurtful, so destructive and I continue because this is a guilty pleasure, always coveting more always wanting to be better and can you fault me for wanting to be someone else because I know you do too.

Words that spill over and fade to black.

Words choke me.

I word things differently.

I word the things you see.

If I could light you on fire and watch your burn until your wick ran out I would do it in a heartbeat because you are the house and your wood is doused in gasoline and I’m only a measly little match and I do so want to watch you turn to ash.

I wish you knew how much I cared for you and that four words keep repeating themselves in my mind about how I wish we weren’t. We weren’t. And you’d hate me because I know you already hate yourself for taking one step and I hate myself for even thinking that because it’s oh. So. Wrong.

You think I have it all but I don’t. I worked hard to get where I am, countless hours, countless days, practice, hard work, never believing I couldn’t. I started out with nothing, like everyone else. I just got a head start. I started with nothing twenty one years ago. You started just last year. In twenty one years, you would be where I am now. Or maybe even better.

I don’t understand why you hang up on the sexual sins like they’re worse sins than others, like the only thing worse than being a murderer is being gay because it’s not. The only reason I don’t condemn them is because I am just as much of a sinner as they are and if gays and lesbians don’t get rights, what makes liars and murderers different? The value of a sin is a sin. There is no greater or lesser sin. There are no shades of gray in this religion. A black mark is still a black mark.

I don’t care about the body that you’re in because you’re beautiful, you’re intelligent and you’re altruistic which makes you so damn attractive to me and if you asked, yes, I could stick my hand down your pants and not care what I find because you’re worth all that.

I remember her now and then. I remember her words. I remember her encouragement. It was a game. But it felt real.

 

Nothing feels real anymore. Is it?