Dec 2018
I know my depression is back. I knew it was going to be a battle when I was told I had something like that wrong with me. And I thought, while the war with it wasn’t over, the worst battle was last summer. And I led myself to believe I didnt have to worry about succumbing so completely to it. I led myself to believe I was capable of so much love and happiness. I’m starting to believe that that was never real. I’m starting to come to terms with this leech I have inside my soul, and the no vacancy sign it has put up. How do you not see. How do you not see that I am completely broken. I was always cracked. Split open. Torn at some seams. And I will admit, I didn’t mind that being the case. I knew I did not desire perfection. My life had foundation. It was never built upon your arrival. But how can you be blind to how much coverage you had in my life. How can you not see that upon your love entering my lungs, I saw that a new foundation, a clean, promising, and innocent one needed to be built. How were you blind to the actions I took with all of my past, emptying out my ghosts, carrying the skeletons of anguish and cowardice and lovingly storing them underneath my new foundation of love and security, thanking them for being wrong all my life.
Just because you broke me does not mean you made me. I made myself. I had my heart beating with the words of friends and the affirmation from family. But it was you who allowed light and serenity to be introduced into my life. I had a foundation. Don’t you ever think you had so much influence that I built my life around you. I had a foundation. It was cracked. It was gray. It was content with being content. But it was mine. It had weathered every ounce of pain I was given and every ounce of pain that I took. It had stood tall against stereotypes, and withered away at alcohol. But it was mine.
And as the depth of you filled my body with natural warmth, that foundation needed to be stronger. It needed to withhold the test of time. It needed to withhold the obstacles of love. It needed to be reborn. And so my beautiful magic fingers molded a new foundation. One I was aware of. One I would never mistreat with harshness and substances that allowed me to feel half as alive as I was when your hand crept into mine. I proudly stood back, looking at the stark contrast between what used to hold me up and what would now lift me up, higher and higher with each touch at three am that we exchanged. And as I stood back to admire my work, you were by my side, complimenting me on my work, and weaving intricate thoughts of our lives into my head. So do not ever think that you created my foundation. I have always had one. And the one I have always had, did not split at the first sign of hardship. The foundation I had did not see me choking on my tears and turn a blind eye. The foundation I had relied on for so long would never abandon me, and sneer at my remedies to relieve the wounds. The foundation I had was worn, broken, and cold but it would never do what you did.
You took my last chance at redemption and you told me it had no value against false anxieties. You took my touch and scrubbed yourself free of it. You forced me to get up and wipe my tears so that you could feel better about destroying me. You forced me to approach life as though it was offering me the world, while you simultaneously told me the things you were taking with you that i would never have again. You forced me to create a mask to display to the public, while confused as to why I could not stop the tears from overflowing underneath it. You forced me to oppress my need for the lending ear you told people you had for me, because you wanted the praise from them, not the problems you stirred in me. You forced me to become so private, even I started to keep things from myself. You forced me to tackle every issue I had, head on, and alone, all the while selfishly parading my friendship to others like a trophy. You had full bellied words, but ghostly actions. You ensured every contact we had was merely technological. You forced every word that was exchanged to be one of normalcy, so that you could dream of a world where you weren’t the one thing in it to absolutely **** my spirit. You forced me to sew myself back together, hollow, with slow blinking dead eyes, that begged the world to take a true look at them. You forced me to believe the demons I was facing were on my shoulder, and not placed into my hands by my own fallen angel. You hacked away at the very foundation I created to help us withstand the world, doing so while looking me dead in the eyes and telling me to move forward. You crumbled every brick I had laid down, knowing each one was laid in both your name and mine. You took one look at my reaction towards this, the very destruction of love that I had never believed I was capable of building, and threatened me with belief that if I did not pull myself together immediately, it could only mean we were the greatest illusion I have ever witnessed. You laughed at my cries for you to come back, knowing I could not lunge at you for doing so, because you were allowing me to hear your laugh. You spun me around, with velvet words that were thrusted into my hands, only to be taken back with reminders that you could not find your way back. You took each promise that was spoken upon the completion of my new foundation, and allowed me to watch as you rewrote each one, only this time you vowed that I would be perfectly capable of managing them on my own.
You do not get to rid me of the very thing that I created when you arrived, and then ask for me to feel how you desire me to feel about losing this beautiful piece of architecture that was dedicated to us. You do not get to publicly declare the friendship we have to those that you still love, while ignoring the pain resonating from two hundred miles away. You do not get to write off every inch of pain you have bestowed upon me, by shoving me out into the world, demanding I be complete, because you could not fathom that you did the destruction you did. You do not get to berate my foundation I created for us, by telling me it did not need to be built to begin with, that I needed my own foundation, not a shared one.
You did not make me. You did not create me. But you did break me. And I am forever ****** to be rooted to the rubble you left behind.
Just because you broke me does not mean you made me. I made myself. I had my heart beating with the words of friends and the affirmation from family. But it was you who allowed light and serenity to be introduced into my life. I had a foundation. Don’t you ever think you had so much influence that I built my life around you. I had a foundation. It was cracked. It was gray. It was content with being content. But it was mine. It had weathered every ounce of pain I was given and every ounce of pain that I took. It had stood tall against stereotypes, and withered away at alcohol. But it was mine.
And as the depth of you filled my body with natural warmth, that foundation needed to be stronger. It needed to withhold the test of time. It needed to withhold the obstacles of love. It needed to be reborn. And so my beautiful magic fingers molded a new foundation. One I was aware of. One I would never mistreat with harshness and substances that allowed me to feel half as alive as I was when your hand crept into mine. I proudly stood back, looking at the stark contrast between what used to hold me up and what would now lift me up, higher and higher with each touch at three am that we exchanged. And as I stood back to admire my work, you were by my side, complimenting me on my work, and weaving intricate thoughts of our lives into my head. So do not ever think that you created my foundation. I have always had one. And the one I have always had, did not split at the first sign of hardship. The foundation I had did not see me choking on my tears and turn a blind eye. The foundation I had relied on for so long would never abandon me, and sneer at my remedies to relieve the wounds. The foundation I had was worn, broken, and cold but it would never do what you did.
You took my last chance at redemption and you told me it had no value against false anxieties. You took my touch and scrubbed yourself free of it. You forced me to get up and wipe my tears so that you could feel better about destroying me. You forced me to approach life as though it was offering me the world, while you simultaneously told me the things you were taking with you that i would never have again. You forced me to create a mask to display to the public, while confused as to why I could not stop the tears from overflowing underneath it. You forced me to oppress my need for the lending ear you told people you had for me, because you wanted the praise from them, not the problems you stirred in me. You forced me to become so private, even I started to keep things from myself. You forced me to tackle every issue I had, head on, and alone, all the while selfishly parading my friendship to others like a trophy. You had full bellied words, but ghostly actions. You ensured every contact we had was merely technological. You forced every word that was exchanged to be one of normalcy, so that you could dream of a world where you weren’t the one thing in it to absolutely **** my spirit. You forced me to sew myself back together, hollow, with slow blinking dead eyes, that begged the world to take a true look at them. You forced me to believe the demons I was facing were on my shoulder, and not placed into my hands by my own fallen angel. You hacked away at the very foundation I created to help us withstand the world, doing so while looking me dead in the eyes and telling me to move forward. You crumbled every brick I had laid down, knowing each one was laid in both your name and mine. You took one look at my reaction towards this, the very destruction of love that I had never believed I was capable of building, and threatened me with belief that if I did not pull myself together immediately, it could only mean we were the greatest illusion I have ever witnessed. You laughed at my cries for you to come back, knowing I could not lunge at you for doing so, because you were allowing me to hear your laugh. You spun me around, with velvet words that were thrusted into my hands, only to be taken back with reminders that you could not find your way back. You took each promise that was spoken upon the completion of my new foundation, and allowed me to watch as you rewrote each one, only this time you vowed that I would be perfectly capable of managing them on my own.
You do not get to rid me of the very thing that I created when you arrived, and then ask for me to feel how you desire me to feel about losing this beautiful piece of architecture that was dedicated to us. You do not get to publicly declare the friendship we have to those that you still love, while ignoring the pain resonating from two hundred miles away. You do not get to write off every inch of pain you have bestowed upon me, by shoving me out into the world, demanding I be complete, because you could not fathom that you did the destruction you did. You do not get to berate my foundation I created for us, by telling me it did not need to be built to begin with, that I needed my own foundation, not a shared one.
You did not make me. You did not create me. But you did break me. And I am forever ****** to be rooted to the rubble you left behind.
