I was told that the wolf you feed is the wolf that wins. I wasn't told that the wolf I starved would gnash at my upper left ribs and rattle me like a little ***** It's grown impatient. It's feeding itself.
I want to snap it's neck and strip it.
I want to burn it's remains and keep its teeth as a trophy; but there's no trophy if there's no champion and there's no champion if there's no fight and how the **** do I fight something that's inside me.
I was told that the wolf you feed is the wolf that wins. I wasn't told that there is only one wolf.
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 11:17 PM UTC
It started with a polite knock just above the stomach - but got impatient after being ignored, and anxiously barged in. He put up a good fight in an attempt to sabotage its journey up the throat but failed dismally. He clenched his jaw but couldn't prevent it from smashing through his teeth. His spine shivered. He was mortified by the terror that had escaped him.
"I love you.", he whispered.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 9:05 PM UTC
It never ceases to amaze me how you can be both a blessing and a curse.
Catalyzing the flourish of a relationship then infecting it with a slow killing cancer.
I'm sure it amuses you, building someones endorphins before crushing them when you feel they've experienced enough to be addicted and beg you for more.
Constantly blitzing forward.
Incapable of taking a step back despite how much I plead.
Like some linear cellphone game; but instead of restarting when I can’t jump over, you phase through the obstacle, forcing me continue at your pace whilst tending to my wounds.
And once they’ve finally healed and I become capable of keeping up with you, you introduce a larger obstacle - and I’m ****** again.
Are you angry at how you can't move backwards? Is that why you're always ******* with me? Or are you able to, but savour the taste of my tears when I cry for you to do so? Or is it because you feel incarcerated by your immortality and have found that nothing else satisfies you?
You’ve made me realise that happiness is an illusion.
I shouldn't be such a pessimist at 17.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 4:40 PM UTC
It gets to me seeing that you're better off without me. Or better yet, seeing how you're exactly the same as you were with me. It ***** how that proves that I had no impact on your happiness and that you were never mine. Thinking about how I was just "there" is a weight on my chest that I'm not strong enough to simply lift off and put down. And in my weakness all I want to do is tell you I miss you. I ******* hate that I know your response to that will be a burden on you and will only make me feel weaker for missing someone who's mind I no longer cross.
At 00:22 6 months ago I was tearing tape off your ******* and gently bruising your collarbones. At 00:22 5 months ago I didn't care about you. At 00:22 4 months ago I'd be lying in bed while we exchanged anything that was on our minds between failed playful sext attempts. At 00:22 3 months ago my lips were touching yours but you weren't mine. 2 months ago I came to the realization that you never were.
It's 00:22 and I'm being kept awake by study drugs I shouldn't be taking and instead of reading over the Berlin Blockade I'm writing about you because these memories are it. There'll never be any more of you in my life. As much as I miss you I no longer have the feeling fueled drive to make an effort, guess that's one thing we have in common now.
It's crazy how I can ignore everything that's made me happy in your absence and neglect the newcomers that have made me feel again.
But it's 00:37 and I'm looking at pictures of you and you don't look so beautiful anymore. What I once saw as flawless, followed by what I saw as flaws alone, is just another pretty face.
It's 00:58 and the weight is gone.
But 00:22 will come again.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
You've starved my memories of you.
Preventing them from growing and experiencing a full life. I watched the fetus of our relationship die. I felt it decay within me. You decided to abort the child with the assumption that we'd never be able to raise it correctly, and that I shall never understand. Because whether that kid grew up to be the woman that cured cancer or the boy that died from a ****** overdose in his teens, I would have loved it with everything I had and appreciated every moment of its life.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 3:10 PM UTC
I've been driving past your house everyday for the last five years. It's strange how meeting someone can **** up your drive home from school.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC
I stared to think what I'd been doing that was so wrong. Thinking of ways to improve myself to get her attention in order to make me happy.
Trying not to be myself.
What a ******* idiot I was, thinking that myself was incorrect, just because I wasn't "right" for whom I desired.
I wish I could control what I desire, or change what you desire, but if I had those abilities then I guess I wouldn't be writing this.
I spiraled into a wormhole of overthought and got spat out at the bottom of an ocean. I thought about drowning for a second. My body had to battle my psyche before forcing it grant my legs the power to kick towards the surface.
I don't know exactly how to wrap this up but by having to escape from my thoughts in order to breathe I realized that trying not to be exactly who i was so i could find happiness was a ******* contradiction, because it distracted me from everything else that made my cheeks touch my eyes before. Content when i was simply just being myself.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 2:24 AM UTC
I was taught in science that matter and energy cannot be created or destroyed, and is simply manipulated into different forms and transferred to other objets.
In Psychology I was taught about the pre-frontal cortex, and how it houses the emotions of the human soul, and about the hippocampus which carefully extracting these emotions into long term memory so they can live forever. I wasn’t taught how these emotions were conserved.
I started wondering to myself, where the **** do the emotions one puts into another go?
Can emotions be created or destroyed inside the pre-frontal cortex?
Or are they simply transferred from mine to yours, which allows you to put effort into someone else, leaving my emotional remnants to manipulate themselves into pain?
Am I able to transfer my feelings into your PFC so they can spark a reaction with whats inside and manipulate them into something different?
Maybe thats how mutual feelings come about.
But would it not work if your necessary reactants have already been transferred elsewhere? I assume my emotions would react with your painful remnants to leave you neutral again, giving you the choice to forget him or feed him a bit more.
Then how the **** do the feelings of one change as time goes on?
I assume that infatuation never completes its journey to the hippocampus and simply passes through the PFC.
But how do emotions get manipulated into something negative after the rare chance that they complete the savage journey to the long term chamber?
The intermolecular forces of the bond created between us possibly gets overcome by something more powerful.
Something that has been freshly transferred into the PFC of one of the emotional bond carriers; like fear, or the emotional energy of someone new, and she’ll tell him “it wasn’t meant to be”
Which explains how you can move on whilst I can’t as my bond is also broken, but without consent, my their emotions to go haywire and destroy my psyche as they’re not bonded to anything.
I’m “broken”.
Although the intermolecular forces of the emotions inside your PFC have been overcome and manipulated into something new, the old emotional bonds still exist in her hippocampus, as well as his.
Emotions will constantly haunt me from there, creating constant relapse as the painful memories are resurrected and transferred back into his PFC.
They’ll haunt you too, possibly reacting with your current state to create regret.
Either regret of breaking the bonds or forming them in the first place.
I’ll reach a neutral state again, and you will have your turn to be broken when emotions from someone else are transferred respectively.
But we’ll never forget each other.
So i guess love never dies. Only active love. As the emotions in the hippocampus are set in stone whilst that in the PFC are transferred and manipulated, just like matter, and energy.
After all, we are just matter, with energy.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC
My father asked me how my love life was
I always get embarrassed talking to him about this topic
Wondering if he’ll be disappointed that I’ve never had a girlfriend for longer than a month ignoring that he’s always telling me I’m too young for something long term.
I told him about you, I told him about the one before you too.
He asked me why I don’t pursue relationships
Why I constantly push people away
“I’m afraid of being responsible for the emotions of another being, afraid of being the blade that pierces their souls, taking that last bit of innocence they have left. I can’t take the guilt of being the person to cause an emotional tipping or turning point in someone else’s life.” I answered. “I don’t have a consciences guiltless enough to be running through someone else’s head I never wanted to be in without splitting myself in half.”
He asked me if that was true then why am I helplessly putting myself in the pre stages of my own potential nightmare, and not leaving it out all together.
“You see dad,” I replied, "I’d rather take the risk of quivering in my bed every night, recovering from the casualties inflicted when those hands hacked at my chest and broke my ribs before extracting my heart, and have that tongue lick my ribs clean to the bone, in the hopes of having those same hands pulling me up from the undertow when the tide gets higher, and have that same cannibalistic tongue whispering empty sounds in my ear in the hopes that I don’t let go. I’d prefer to have that dance with fate than be responsible for the suffering of someone else.”
I tilted my neck forward as I awkwardly ran my fingers through my hair.
“I’m searching for someone to be responsible for my bliss and suffering instead.”
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
I hope that in 20 years you'll be painting on a canvas under the night sky whilst admiring a blood full moon and be reminded of me and ask yourself if I still smoke Marlboro red and love guitar solos more than silence and then googling my band to see if we actually got somewhere.
I hope that 20 years from now you'll be painting on a canvas under the night sky whilst admiring a super moon after we finally calmed our son's nerves down about his first day of school in the morning and tucked him in and let out a sigh of relief when I kiss your neck from behind and carefully place a cup of coffee in your hand.
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC