In another life, a long time ago, I did things that ruined my soul. When I was falling, I met someone that helped me grab on, and even though I still hit the bottom hard, it was a treasure to me.
When I thought I was having a heart attack from too much coke, driving down the highway in the middle of the night, it was you I prayed to, to get me home alright, because I didn't want to leave. Every time I wanted to die, there was someone that held me back. Every time we hated each other, there was part of me that could feel you still inside me, waiting for an opportunity to come back. Even when it took years.
When I was alone for months, in my room, draining and dying and losing my mind, I could talk to you. I could just lie there, even in the silence, and feel connected to you. I could feel it. Talking about the trolleys that went up the side of the mountain, and driving in the ice... I remember when I wondered when those flowers would get there, finally. You ripped my heart out more than once. I hurt you as well. But there was something that I was always left wanting. I remember all the nights, of reaching out, and feeling like someone was reaching back to me. And I remember all the fucked up nights of pain and severing. Out by the lake, wondering whether you'd survive, promising to be there for you as soon as humanly possible. All of the fucked up times, and all of the beautiful ones. I probably ruined it permanently.
And now, I get the feeling that it's being lost for good, slowly atrophying, or on the cusp of erasure, and I really don't know how to handle it. I feel childish, waiting and hoping and just fucking waiting. I feel selfish because I should be worried more about everything else than this feeling. But, throughout my life, it's the only feeling that meant something real to me. And, now that I'm not constantly speeding forward in a rudderless torrent, I feel like I have the means to make things right. But there's never the chance to. It's a microcosm of my entire life. I'm always too late, after I've fucked everything up. I'm still the ghost, walking through a play. Watching my mistakes and their aftermath.
And yet, I know that I would do everything again if I could just have one more of those peaceful moments with you. I would let myself be ripped apart forever, and it would be worth it.
If I'm crazy, projecting things that aren't real and clinging on to something just for the sake of it, believing something's there that isn't, then I need real confirmation. I keep endlessly pouring myself into this, and filling who I think you are with all these things in my brain. I'm starting to wonder if it's real anymore. The last time I felt this way, I watched someone die.
I don't try to make everything about myself, but I always sound narcissistic...
I just feel these things, and I believe in them, and I'm waiting for the day when I realize that they're not real. And I fall into myself, and realize I'm alone, and start collapsing. I don't want illusions, I want the truth, even if it's horrible. It's not about romance, or possession, or love. I need us to be in each other's lives in any form. I want to help you, and it's selfish of me to want and need all these things, but I can't live with the agony of never saying them.
There's no one that has ever made me feel the way that you do. And it's because of who you are. There's nothing brighter in this life. There's nothing like it. You're worth so much. Even if I make things worse, or make you feel even more blank. I have to say this. No one in life is as important as you are. You will be alive. I promise.
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