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Trevor Dowe Apr 22
I wish I didn't think about you,
In the middle of the night.
I wish I didn't care for you,
Like you don't care for me.
I wish there were different obstacles
Between you and I, that I may overcome.
I wish you hated me,
Because then I wouldn't get to see your smiles.
I wish you loved me,
But that's asking too much.
I wish I were a better person,
Who could be someone trustworthy.
I wish I didn't feel guilty,
But I deserve the anguish that accompanies it.
I wish.
I wish I could be the man you deserved,
But it's impossible.
I wish you cared about me,
Even when I know it's better that you don't.
I wish I could spoil you,
And tell you what you mean to me.
I wish you'd be open and receptive,
Though I know it is impractical.
I wish
Trevor Dowe Mar 13
I do not fear death
It is either inevitable or impossible
Neither which are a cause for fear
I will greet the reaper
With open arms and a warm smile
Nor do I fear rejection
If you're not interested
That's allowed and perfectly fine
No, but what I do fear
I fear that, one day, months or years or decades from now you will look at me
And in your eyes there will be no love
Only resentment, disgust, or disappointment
You will tell me that I no longer fill your needs
Or that we are broken
And with you leaving you will take my least piece of humanity
Leaving me a shell for the monster inside to control
Or I fear that I will break your heart
That my actions will cause you pain
That our time together will be seen as a waste
Something to be erased and forgotten
I fear responsibility that my imperfect self will bring ruin to all that I touch
Leaving nothing but pain and suffering in my wake
I fear that I am truly empty inside and that no matter how wonderful you are
I will never be able to express how much you mean to me
But most of all I truly fear having to say good-bye
I've been having a rough time recently with my depression and anxiety. Since days my writing is a cathartic release, others though my fingers feel like I'm bleeding into the words and carving then into my skin. As for which this is, well what do you think?
Trevor Dowe Nov 2019
There's a darkness that dwells within me, like all of us, except mine revels in finding the subtle ways to ****** me into its way of thinking.
Trapping me like an insect in amber in patterns of self loathing and despair.
It comes upon me slowly, seeing in through the cracks in my facade that I present to the Grand Masquerade we call society, some days. Others it strikes like lightning from a clear, cloudless sky.
But, no matter how it comes to me it is always devastating, not in the least because the words are sharp and pry my soul apart, nor because I shut the world out and try to protect myself and the world from my darkness, but because I always open the door when it knocks. I can't help it, it feels like home and I hate it. The comforting despair-- it's a lie and a mockery as are the pace and respite it brings.
Even knowing all of this, I still shut myself out, withdraw and isolate because I believe I'm not good enough.
And in some ways, it's right. The crux is, I know some things I enjoy are wrong and terrible, but I can no more change them than I can ***** out the stars. I still try to be better, every day, I try to be a light in the darkness, but in days like today I'm naught but the last vestiges of a dying fire, just a few embers glowing dimly covered in hot ash waiting for more fuel to burn or the final wisps of smoke as the fire within me dies.
I woke up this morning, with a general dread and despair that I could not and cannot shake. I was hoping to find a catharsis in this piece, but all I found were still open wounds and no answers.
Trevor Dowe Nov 2019
She wonders what I see in her?
I see the breeze gently tugging at her hair, loose strands floating.
Or the bright colors of her eyes, glistening like morning dew.
The way her freckles draw me in, begging for me to count them.
Yet those are superficial, but not trivial.
She's like a spring flower, full of life and vibrancy.
It's a wonder each and everyday I see her.
She so brave,  growing in the autumn, with cold spiteful winds and harsh freezing emotions of those around her.
If I were a gardener, I'd move her inside for the winter and shelter her.
But she would lose her tenacity and strength.
I watch her struggle and offer what comfort I can, because unlike a flower she is capable of changing and adapting.
I can only watch and hope that she continues to bloom beautifully
Trevor Dowe Mar 2019
Sometimes I am words,
Sometimes words are me.
Right now is not either of those.
Trevor Dowe Mar 2019
Like a siren song,
the void has called to me.
Whispers and melodies
and soft lullaby's
to draw me in
to death's cold embrace.

I listened without acting,
with patience and clarity.
Its dark harmonies
washed over me
until I was drowning in them.
Still, I made no move to act.
I drank deep and filled myself,
until finally the void was within me

Overflowing, but not overfilled
I understood the call,
the peace and serenity
and the freedom from fear.
My eyes opened to the truth:
Easy isn't always right,
the struggles we face
can spark the firecrest joy
or the most harrowing sorrows.

I tried to find the profound
to find simply the cliched and trite.
And still the void calls to me,
filling me with silence and peace
Trevor Dowe Nov 2018
I don't want someone to settle for me. I want the beautiful, talented, and amazing women I know to be happy. And I'm afraid that I am not good enough to bring them that joy and that I will hold them back if we were anything than friends. Yet, I, like most people, crave love and affection -- the simple romantic in me falls in love so easily. The classmate who were supportive of my fiction and always left smiley faces on their critiques, the one who went out of her way to drive me home when I was struggling with money and who always encouraged me and told me how amazing my wiring was. Or the one who trusted me with her vulnerabilities without expecting me it asking for my help, just telling me that it existed so that I could better understand her. Or... Or... Or...

But, too afraid to cause pains that had been caused to me and too afraid to get hurt again, I shut myself off from all but the minimum or safest of social requirements. I secluded myself and retreated into isolation -- which inevitably lead to more insecurity and more despair.

As I've grown older and understood myself more, I've learned that I'm polyamorus, that I can be in love with multiple people for different, but equal, reasons. This further isolates me because our society is only just starting to accept polyamory and it's easier (but worse) for me to just stay secluded and cut off from love.

If I don't try then I can't be hurt, right?
If I don't put myself out there then I can't be rejected, right?
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