an alternative to ennui
Saturday Night Ignored
That’s what he titled his own shit.
Fuck this feeling –
this angry knot in my stomach making me sick.
Not able to eat or sleep.
She said I looked like a ghost.
A ghost of a person, not even a ghost of myself.
I hate this, but I love him…
he doesn’t believe me.
Or maybe he does and just doesn’t want to admit that he doesn’t feel the same way.
That maybe he’s a lying piece of manipulative shit who tells me he loves me and makes me feel ‘good’ but is actually selfish –
just fiends attention.
You can’t love love two things at once.
It’s fucking impossible.
And if you do, you’re lying to yourself
desperate to keep this warm feeling around because you’re scared of what lies outside.
Scared to be alone.
Scared to run to someone in the hopes of rekindling that feeling, knowing that you don’t feel the same.
Fuck love. Fuck life. Fuck fucking.
My body is nothing.
My mind doesn’t need this shit.
My body craves it because I’ve been feeding it for years.
But before then, when I knew (no) better, I didn’t need this.
I needed no one.
It was lonely and sad,
But it was deserved.
I deserve nothing.
THAT is the only lesson I will ever receive.
My purpose is to be for others.
No fucking way will they allow me to be for myself.
And I wanna say
But I’m scared.
I’m still so tied up in this mundane, human bullshit.
I feel too much to say so.
I want to reach that point where I no longer feel.
Or do I?
I continuously contradict myself because I know nothing.
He knows nothing.
We are nothing.
but mainly me
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