u/Internal_Extension84

it seems your most recent move has forced my hand. forced it to carve my heart out of my own chest, crack it open, and extract you from the crevices, kicking and screaming.

i think the feeling when i saw that, whatever your intention was or wasn’t, was the most painful part of this entire situation. my soon-to-be-operated-on heart sunk when i saw your name. some people would have been excited. it does confirm that all my predictions about how you were feeling were right, but i take no satisfaction in it when this is the outcome.

it’s yet another spit in the face, yet another person who does not take me seriously. i thought it was clear that i don’t care for breadcrumbs anymore. and so i think i got my answer. as if this long in silence wasn’t blatant enough.

i got my confirmation that you’re still looking for me, that i’m still on your mind, and in that same moment got the confirmation that nothing has changed. i was hoping we could get out of this cycle together but it looks like i’m gonna just have to end it solo. it really fucking hurts and knowing it hurts you too somehow makes it hurt more.

so it seems my eternal yearn is not, in fact, eternal. and i must be going.

i always want to remain positive. i am expected to remain positive. and so when i'm not, i'm used to just disappearing. i disappear for as long as it takes for me to get back the energy to plaster a smile back on my face, to make a cheeky joke, to give some sage advice. nobody likes me when i'm sad. nobody likes me when i'm stressed or frustrated. that's not the type of space i'm allowed to occupy as a friend/partner.

when i get sad, it's like they can sense it. when i need someone, everyone disappears. so i just don't let on. i disappear instead. i fix myself, alone again, and then come back, good as new. no one will ever see the anguish, the time, the effort it took to get back to the place where i could be that person again. i had just accepted that. people keep me around because i make them feel good. when i'm not able to do that, well, what's the point of having me around? to many, i am a product, a service, someone who has no value outside of being utilized by other people.

to you, i think that's not true. i think that's not how you see me. saw me. i think that's not how you feel. felt. but what am i supposed to do? make an exception to a rule? hope that you're the one person who's seen me for who i am in almost three decades of life? show you the thoughts that make everyone else scatter? i know that's what you wanted. thought you wanted. but there's not a switch i could flip and it all felt too fragile, too difficult to navigate. i needed a guarantee that you likely couldn't provide, especially with your actions at the time.

so i did what i do best. i disappeared. sorry. really. sorry. i made the choice for you. i do that sometimes. i could have dealt with things better. but i knew you'd be alright. i'm not the priority and i swear that's fine, i just need to be. sorry again. i just need to be the priority for one single person. just to one person, matter enough. i wanted it to be you but i knew it wasn't. i wish it was! i still wish it was!

when i close my eyes, i see you.
i touch myself, i feel you.
i whisper to myself, i hear you.

i watch you rush to me,
i feel you press into me,
you’re moaning in my ear.

my hands are your hands,
they know where to go.
they know where you would go.

they imitate your hunger for my body,
hungry to be touched like that,
by you.

scenes replay in my head,
words i’ve held onto and listened to many.. many times.

eyes closed tight with one hand around my neck,
i beg to no one.

legs wrapped around the other,
i pretend it feels like you.
it doesn’t.

breath quickens,
one final notice.
i’m coming and you’re not here.

when i close my eyes, i see you.
i touch myself, i feel you.
i whisper to myself, i hear you.

i watch you rush to me,
i feel you press into me,
you’re moaning in my ear.

my hands are your hands,
they know where to go.
they know where you would go.

they imitate your hunger for my body,
hungry to be touched like that,
by you.

scenes replay in my head,
words i’ve held onto and listened to many.. many times.

eyes closed tight with one hand around my neck,
i beg to no one.

legs wrapped around the other,
i pretend it feels like you.
it doesn’t.

breath quickens,
one final notice.
i’m coming and you’re not here.

the thought of them in a desperate search
to seek me out where i shamefully do the same,
it makes my hopeful heart lurch,
a low possibility but im game.
but if you did get that same urge,
if you were my opposing flame,
I’d ask: could our worlds just merge,
could we both take our rightful blame?
each heart bears the other’s scourge,
each wound weeps our own shame.
but if you’re up to try and resurge
the flames we’ve tamped in vain,
we could worship in this love like it’s our church,
forgive ourselves for causing pain.
now we timidly teeter at the verge,
but by the way— i’d try again.

the thought of them in a desperate search
to seek me out where i shamefully do the same,
it makes my hopeful heart lurch,
a low possibility but im game.
but if you did get that same urge,
if you were my opposing flame,
I’d ask: could our worlds just merge,
could we both take our rightful blame?
each heart bears the other’s scourge,
each wound weeps our own shame.
but if you’re up to try and resurge
the flames we’ve tamped in vain,
we could worship in this love like it’s our church,
forgive ourselves for causing pain.
now we timidly teeter at the verge,
but by the way— i’d try again.

I’m tired of this.

i didn’t think i’d been back on here again so soon. i went to sleep like an hour and a half ago but i feel like everything has changed.

i had that dream that i always have, the ones where the lights won’t turn on. i peeled back the first layer of the dream but i was still in it. i started to panic and try every light, begging them to turn on.

and then i ran to someone else. not you. someone else was in my bed, asleep. i knew them. i know them. i haven’t dreamt of them in so long, haven’t seen them in years. even still, i wasn’t surprised to see them.

they sleepily opened their eyes as i leaned over them. *please turn on the lights. please turn on the lights.*

they didn’t seem to hold the same concern for what was coming, what was looming. they smiled with eyes half-open, lazily sitting up.

instead of obeying my request, they reached out and pulled me into them, then laid back down, me in their arms, on top of them. and then they smiled again and fell back asleep.

everything fell away in that moment. i wasn’t scared anymore. there was nothing coming, nothing lurking on the edges of the night. i didn’t even need the lights to turn back on.

i asked them to turn on the lights, but they helped me not to be afraid of the dark.

when i woke up, everything felt different. my perception shifted. you’re not coming back, are you?

it *does* hurt to say that. like a pit in my stomach.

but i think it’s time to stop fighting to turn on the lights. i just have to get comfortable with the dark, until the sun rises again.

Some days i feel you close, some days i don't feel you at all. some nights i feel your energy run through me like a jolt, pulling me into a memory or a vision that feels like i'm intercepting your own thoughts. a sharp pang, a stomach drop, my head spinning and cheeks flushing; a flash and then it's gone again.

I try to convince myself it's all my imagination, but it's almost impossible to ignore my intuition (or spiritual psychosis, but i like to think it's the former). these thoughts come to me like foresight, seemingly here to remind me every time i forget. and i, well, i don't trust that you aren't sending me that energy. i'd like to ask, *did you always feel that link? did you always know that you could invade my headspace?*

sometimes your presence is welcome, and i open up the door for you before you even knock. other times, you blow past all my security systems and saunter in, smugly showing that you didn't even need me to let you in. you smirk as i watch you slide the key back in your pocket. other times, i scream at you to get out. honestly, i could change the locks. but still other times, i scream for you to come in. *where the fuck are you???* those questions seem to echo into nothingness.

i hesitate to break the only connection we still have, looking at the deadbolt, staring at the locksmith's contact info, telling myself, *maybe tomorrow. maybe i'll be ready to call it. maybe i'll finally seal the door for good.*

but truthfully i like our rendezvous in the dream world, in whatever plane we seem to be meeting on. it's safe for us. it's safe for us to say the things we couldn't say and do the things we couldn't do. i have a few scenes that run through my mind over and over. they feel more like memories. memories of the future, so vivid and real that i just keep waiting for them to play out, even with no evidence to prove that they ever could.

do you want to know what i see? do you already know what i see? it feels too vulnerable to type these visions, to pull them from their safe home in my mind, slap them on paper and blast them out to the world. really, i don't think i need to tell you what keeps playing out over and over in my head. i'm pretty sure you're the lead *and* the director.

could you play it out for real with me? i think i'm done rehearsing scenes. i think i'm ready for the real thing. maybe i don't have my lines memorized but i can improvise, just try it. let's start with the first one that popped into my head, long before we stopped communicating.

you've got the first line, i can't start the scene without you. i've been waiting for my cue. **1, 2, 3...** *it's showtime snoopy!*

sometimes i think you’ve been waiting for me to cool off so that you can come back in. but every day i get hotter. every day i get angrier, more resentful of you, with a worse taste in my mouth. every day chips away at my respect for you, changes my perception of you as a person.

every day i realize you’re even less mature than i thought and even more cowardly. every day is another day you’ve prioritized other things over me, chosen not to show me your care. i don’t think you’re any better than the last one at this point. at least they knew they weren’t good enough for me, it almost makes you worse with your false confidence and boastfulness. i don’t know why i thought that you were any better. i don’t know why you thought that either.

Some days i feel you close, some days i don't feel you at all. some nights i feel your energy run through me like a jolt, pulling me into a memory or a vision that feels like i'm intercepting your own thoughts. a sharp pang, a stomach drop, my head spinning and cheeks flushing; a flash and then it's gone again.

I try to convince myself it's all my imagination, but it's almost impossible to ignore my intuition (or spiritual psychosis, but i like to think it's the former). these thoughts come to me like foresight, seemingly here to remind me every time i forget. and i, well, i don't trust that you aren't sending me that energy. i'd like to ask, did you always feel that link? did you always know that you could invade my headspace?

sometimes your presence is welcome, and i open up the door for you before you even knock. other times, you blow past all my security systems and saunter in, smugly showing that you didn't even need me to let you in. you smirk as i watch you slide the key back in your pocket. other times, i scream at you to get out. honestly, i could change the locks. but still other times, i scream for you to come in. where the fuck are you?? those questions seem to echo into nothingness.

i hesitate to break the only connection we still have, looking at the deadbolt, staring at the locksmith's contact info, telling myself, maybe tomorrow. maybe i'll be ready to call it. maybe i'll finally seal the door for good.

but truthfully i like our rendezvous in the dream world, in whatever plane we seem to be meeting on. it's safe for us. it's safe for us to say the things we couldn't say and do the things we couldn't do. i have a few scenes that run through my mind over and over. they feel more like memories. memories of the future, so vivid and real that i just keep waiting for them to play out, even with no evidence to prove that they ever could.

do you want to know what i see? do you already know what i see? it feels too vulnerable to type these visions, to pull them from their safe home in my mind, slap them on paper and blast them out to the world. really, i don't think i need to tell you what keeps playing out over and over in my head. i'm pretty sure you're the lead and the director.

could you play it out for real with me? i think i'm done rehearsing scenes. i think i'm ready for the real thing. maybe i don't have my lines memorized but i can improvise, just try it. let's start with the first one that popped into my head, long before we stopped communicating.

you've got the first line, i can't start the scene without you. i've been waiting for my cue. 1, 2, 3... it's showtime snoopy!

Some days i feel you close, some days i don't feel you at all. some nights i feel your energy run through me like a jolt, pulling me into a memory or a vision that feels like i'm intercepting your own thoughts. a sharp pang, a stomach drop, my head spinning and cheeks flushing; a flash and then it's gone again.

I try to convince myself it's all my imagination, but it's almost impossible to ignore my intuition (or spiritual psychosis, but i like to think it's the former). these thoughts come to me like foresight, seemingly here to remind me every time i forget. and i, well, i don't trust that you aren't sending me that energy. i'd like to ask, did you always feel that link? did you always know that you could invade my headspace?

sometimes your presence is welcome, and i open up the door for you before you even knock. other times, you blow past all my security systems and saunter in, smugly showing that you didn't even need me to let you in. you smirk as i watch you slide the key back in your pocket. other times, i scream at you to get out. honestly, i could change the locks. but still other times, i scream for you to come in. where the fuck are you??? those questions seem to echo into nothingness.

i hesitate to break the only connection we still have, looking at the deadbolt, staring at the locksmith's contact info, telling myself, maybe tomorrow. maybe i'll be ready to call it. maybe i'll finally seal the door for good.

but truthfully i like our rendezvous in the dream world, in whatever plane we seem to be meeting on. it's safe for us. it's safe for us to say the things we couldn't say and do the things we couldn't do. i have a few scenes that run through my mind over and over. they feel more like memories. memories of the future, so vivid and real that i just keep waiting for them to play out, even with no evidence to prove that they ever could.

do you want to know what i see? do you already know what i see? it feels too vulnerable to type these visions, to pull them from their safe home in my mind, slap them on paper and blast them out to the world. really, i don't think i need to tell you what keeps playing out over and over in my head. i'm pretty sure you're the lead and the director.

could you play it out for real with me? i think i'm done rehearsing scenes. i think i'm ready for the real thing. maybe i don't have my lines memorized but i can improvise, just try it. let's start with the first one that popped into my head, long before we stopped communicating.

you've got the first line, i can't start the scene without you. i've been waiting for my cue. 1, 2, 3... it's showtime snoopy!

I’m not a hopeless romantic, but a radical romantic. i want you to choose me over everything. Everything. I want you to feel like losing me is the end of the world. worship me with religious devotion. Look at me like I’m the only person that you could ever dream of being in love with. Run home at the end of a work day to be by my side as quickly as you can because you can’t bear to spend another minute away from me. Develop the kind of obsession that tinges every thought you have with the stain of me, my presence so substantial in your head that nothing can slip past it unmarred. these are small asks in my radical mind, for the most invaluable asset.

Unfortunately it seems, when you go for logical people, they’re well, logical. in their minds. I think they’re crazier than me. i can’t comprehend being born into this world to experience love and love fiercely, yet choosing the only thing that will never care about you over the one who would be with you through the end. I guess that’s the problem though, I don’t understand that choice. But I do understand not being chosen. realizing you’re not in love with me, just the idea of having me (once again, of course). And so it makes sense that when I am no longer perceived as the most impressive thing to tout to the world, then I am discarded.

So, I hope the job you chose over me (remember when it was just a job to you?) keeps you warm at night. I hope it whispers sweet nothings in your ear, wraps its lips around you and sucks you to completion, makes you feel like a big strong man. I hope it cooks meals with you, giggling and taste-testing, the tap of knife chops blurring into the background of whatever Dinner Music it has chosen today. I hope it has good music taste.

I hope it waters your plants and cleans your bathroom and sits beside you as you play guitar, singing along to help you get back on-key, but only then, because it’s not allowed to sing with you anymore (or maybe it is, maybe you like its voice more than mine). This is a one-man show, I hope it’s a great audience.

I hope your job encourages you to put down the bottle (yeah, right) and invest in yourself (or maybe just one of their many stock options). I hope it makes sure you’ve eaten breakfast and asks you if you’ve called your family, pushes you to spend more time with friends. I know jobs love to encourage that kind of thing.

I hope your job fucks you just right, but I’m sure it will. How many people at your office have gotten let go of now? Maybe it’ll let you down easy too (this split is totally about them, not you). Don’t worry, your severance package will be on its way. You didn’t get one of those from me.

I hope that your image was worth all this. I hope you’re madly in love. I mean, your devotion does kind of fit my requirements. you did choose it over everything. You did act like losing it would be the end of the world. you do worship the company and your employers with religious devotion. Running back to it as early as you can every day, staying as late as possible every night. I admire the commitment you have to that job in a way you couldn’t seem to make for me (there at the end). It must be really good at conversation, it must be really good in bed. it must boost your ego more than I did.

I hope it can seduce you, rolls its hips into you just right; matches every move in synchronous thrusts. I hope it looks you in the eye as you come, before it makes you go.

And then I hope it breaks your heart. I hope it gets tired of you. Finds someone with more apparent value. it doesn’t even fuck you anymore. All the overtime (bonding), the office happy hours (how’s sobriety going btw?), the wringer you ran yourself through as quickly as possible only to discover that the company didn’t even wait for you to dry, they already had a new shirt waiting, this one already dry cleaned and pressed, tags still on, waiting for its immediate depreciation upon use.

Working in too many metaphors can get confusing, even to the person writing them. your job is your love life, but you are an item of clothing..? Whatever. fuck you. I hope you get tossed in the landfill. your synthetic composition is tacky and unflattering and not worth being reworked into something better.

(subject of letter is not contiguous with my other works)

currently thinking about how people like to frame themselves as “doing the right thing” because they “don’t deserve” their person and could never be as much as they need.

many claim that’s love. many claim that’s powerful love. true love. their final act of it, oh so brave.

personally, i think it’s a cop-out and a measly attempt at playing both hero and victim. i’m sorry, you love them so much that you caused both of you immense pain? instead of just… rising to the occasion? fixing yourself?

no. you’re saving yourself from discomfort and effort. you don’t know what it feels like to love someone so much you would do anything to be the person they deserve. unfortunately, you call cowardice courage and pat yourself on the back for robbing someone the right to make their own decision about that and what they’re going to do about it.

very few things are as complicated as people make them seem. you just like having excuses to make yourself feel better for falling short, for being weak.

and then you get to punish both of you for eternity instead of loving them for eternity. yeah, sounds like the right thing. a bunch of fucking love geniuses.

my requirements for a potential partner: you’re willing to try anything twice with me.

i guess im not just talking about food.

you’ve got an open mind, a refined palate, and won’t roll your eyes when i make wordplay after wordplay. and you actually think my puns are funny.

you can have an opinion about anything and if you don’t have one yet, you’ll have one in about 30 seconds. you can riff passionately about anything important and everything unimportant.

you don’t let bad luck make it a bad day or a bad life. you don’t take anything too seriously. you can laugh at your mistakes.. you can admit them too. you can forgive wholly when i mess up, in the way that i can forgive you.

you don’t mistake my spontaneity for mania and you’re down to make anything happen. you dream with me.

you want to be the costar to the movie that is my life, or at least we could make a sequel that includes both of us. i mean, at least a crossover episode, i just think we need more time than that. there’s so many plot points we haven’t hit yet!

you want to witness the magic that happens to me, that will happen to us, when we interact with the world.

you want to learn from me and you want to teach me. you want to do things together but also in tandem, we don’t always have to be intertwined. parallel play, i believe it’s called lol.

and you are down to eat all the pickled, fermented, brined, smelly food that may come our way.

anyway. this isn’t like my usual writing. it’s sloppy and choppy and jumps from subject to subject with little continuity. but it’s what i’m thinking about today.

you must like tomatoes and pickles.

my requirements for a potential partner: you’re willing to try anything twice with me.

i guess im not just talking about food.

you’ve got an open mind, a refined palate, and won’t roll your eyes when i make wordplay after wordplay. and you actually think my puns are funny.

you can have an opinion about anything and if you don’t have one yet, you’ll have one in about 30 seconds. you can riff passionately about anything important and everything unimportant.

you don’t let bad luck make it a bad day or a bad life. you don’t take anything too seriously. you can laugh at your mistakes.. you can admit them too. you can forgive wholly when i mess up, in the way that i can forgive you.

you don’t mistake my spontaneity for mania and you’re down to make anything happen. you dream with me.

you want to be the costar to the movie that is my life, or at least we could make a sequel that includes both of us. i mean, at least a crossover episode, i just think we need more time than that. there’s so many plot points we haven’t hit yet!

you want to witness the magic that happens to me, that will happen to us, when we interact with the world.

you want to learn from me and you want to teach me. you want to do things together but also in tandem, we don’t always have to be intertwined. parallel play, i believe it’s called lol.

and you are down to eat all the pickled, fermented, brined, smelly food that may come our way.

anyway. this isn’t like my usual writing. it’s sloppy and choppy and jumps from subject to subject with little continuity. but it’s what i’m thinking about today.

you must like tomatoes and pickles.

actually, honestly, fuck you. a coward just like the last one. so pretentious just to turn out to be a pussy. so intelligent just to be a fucking idiot. so funny just to be a fucking fool. i don’t think i could fumble this bad if i was blindfolded, backwards and standing on my head. twice??? jesus christ i can’t believe ive still been watching. i’m getting back on the field, but not in this game. fuck you again (once for each day without contact) and good luck finding someone who will maybe gently place themselves in your clumsy, shaking hands. as you said to me, i wish you well!

I’m good at lying and telling the truth,
To myself and also to you.
we pretend to believe it; that we don’t have a clue
That not caring is my lie, and my truth is loving you

But we’re so casual and just too cool
To make an exception for slipping up or breaking one rule.
Pride and ego are cutting and cruel;
We rejected ourselves so we’re both fucking fools

You knew it was love!! I knew it too
But it doesn’t really matter what we knew
Because what matters is what we do.
And when things got deep, we both got spooked

Now we sit in silence, these words overdue,
knowing if we swallowed our pride, we could start anew.
but our throats are blocked, we forgot to chew;
now we choke on our egos till our faces turn blue

dear god please say it, i promise!
that im sorry too.

I’m good at lying and telling the truth,
To myself and also to you.
we pretend to believe it; that we don’t have a clue
That not caring is my lie, and my truth is loving you

But we’re so casual and just too cool
To make an exception for slipping up or breaking one rule.
Pride and ego are cutting and cruel;
We rejected ourselves so we’re both fucking fools

You knew it was love!! I knew it too
But it doesn’t really matter what we knew
Because what matters is what we do.
And when things got deep, we both got spooked

Now we sit in silence, these words overdue,
knowing if we swallowed our pride, we could start anew.
but our throats are blocked, we forgot to chew;
now we choke on our egos till our faces turn blue

dear god please say it, i promise!
that im sorry too.

I’ve done it before, in my teenage years
i’ll listen to bright eyes (fevers and mirrors)
Isolate myself, shrouded in all my fears
Run from it all until it disappears.
Till I can hear nothing but my heart, pounding in my ears.
But when I stop to catch a breath and the dust clears,
I realize, I am the one who disappears.
And I’ll run from you if it means ditching my fears.
But they’re still here.
..and yet i still don’t want to reappear.

at the same time, this i can’t endure.
I want you to reassure.
Make it known that I am Her,
To quell all my fears when they begin to stir,
Hold me tight when i might succumb to the lure
Of fresh new beginnings, my feet pounding dirt;
and remind me there’s always going to be something that hurts,
the desire to love and be loved is humanity’s eternal curse.
And when love and fear begin to blur,
you’ll be here (you always were).