Love Until Lost

I want to float in a lake at night, alone. Just the water, the stars above me, and my body existing as a part of both. I am stardust rearranged into patterns that have never and will never be recreated. I wonder if that’s for a good reason.

Please, hold me in the grasp of nothing. Let my eyes close and melt into puddles of all the images I have ever seen. I don’t know which would stick out the most, but I have my guesses.

I don’t think I was meant to be alive. The amount of torment I feel from the most meaningless tasks, is unmeasurable, let alone doing things that are typically torture.

When can I be done? At what point does the pain stop? At what point does the motivation become real? Do I ever become ok?

All memories fade into and out of each other, every feeling becoming more similar to another, each bit of my soul being reduced to nothing worth living for.

The walls that surround my life, regardless of costs of paint or decorations, will forever know me better than myself.

The humanity that I know is slowly seeping out of my pores

Step, step, step

Colors desaturate, leaving me in beiges and greys unlike the vibrancy everyone else experiences

Step, step, step

My existence becomes light with innocence and heavy with guilt, and neither one feels like it’s the correct part

Step, step, step

Vision unfocuses, leaving behind only a blur of what it means to be loved

Step, step, step

The body I inhabit only becoming more lethargic, each movement feels less feasible than the last

Step

step

Yes, I have a good bill of health and eat well and take care of my body, but the lingering feeling of everything coming to an end permeates through my existence. The days meld together, the memories of past laughs fade slowly but surely, the wonder of staring up at the night sky now replaced with never ending dread and fear.

Am I dead? Sure, my heart still fills and my blood still oxygenates, yet I cannot convince myself that this is what life is meant to be. The fact of being alive does not determine if I am living.

Meals are no longer enticing. Hobbies have lost their wonder, art has become dull, walking is for getting between locations, not experiencing the world around me. In order for me to experience it I first have to accept that I belong in it.

Tires rolling down the highway as fast as my thoughts race, for once I feel up to speed on whatever the hell is happening in my life. Why do I feel calmest when under the most distress?

Let's take a break, sit on the side of the highway as I spill my soul to a heart that doesn't want to accept it. Scream into the void of trees and tall grass to finally release whatever emotions are bubbling up anymore. At some points they all boil together into a cacophony of something that can only be expressed by the frying of vocal chords.

I scream the words, "I love you" louder and more profoundly than ever into the face of the person my body wants to marry, even though my brain knows it's too early, right? The echoes of the pain I feel knowing that they don't truly accept this passion mimic the constant rush of other vehicles passing us, taking our words with them to never be seen or remembered exactly again.

Time to get back on the road, no? We have so much time left, let's be sure to make the most of it. Soon we will become one with the cars moving past, the stories of those around us unknown even though they are just as intricate. How I would love to hear all of the stories of those around us.

Please, lend me your life. Tell me all of the thoughts that are meant to stay quiet, show me the lives you’ve lived so I can walk beside you in them. Bless me with the tales of long lost love and love long lost.

Screams echo through the cavern that is my soul. The words of those long forgotten still remain, still pounding on my existence.

Slowly cracking and falling apart with no semblance of repairability. After each reconstruction a small part is forgotten, a piece is lost to the ether. Each bit gone leaves more to be needed, more to be wanted, more to be considered enough.

Why must I be remembered? Allow me to return to star dust and heat, nothing more than molecules.

I wonder what color my soul emits. I want to become one with wavelengths unknown to the body I reside in, not measured by my consciousness but by amplitude and frequency.

My existence is paradoxical. Must be the best but never being first, working tirelessly while not being able to brush my teeth or comb my hair, days flying by with nothing achieved yet feeling as if months have happened in the span of seconds.

There is no part of me that is correct. Every piece contradicts another, every value held torn apart by behaviors I’m unable to manage.

Efficiency is the lifeblood of success. A lack of productivity is a lack of effort. Leisure is useless, it must be beneficial. Working hard isn’t enough. My best isn’t enough. I am not enough. I will never be enough. If I’m never enough what is the point in attempting to be?

Breathe.

My life leeches into memories of impossibility, trying to grasp onto the version that was better. Was I ever better? Did it ever get better?

Molecules reaching half lives, the mere idea of life being nothing more than a distant memory.

I crave having a friend. Yes, many people call me such, but I want something that feels unattainable at times.

Tell me about that one person at work that did that thing that you hate. Tell me about what you had for lunch. Tell me all of the thoughts you wish you could spill out into the world but are still afraid to.

Lend me your soul, even for just a moment. Let us be close without expectation, let us laugh together with platonic “I love you”s and shoulder punches.

Let me live once more with a soul that understands, allow me to see a part of you that is different than what a partner or relative would see; give me the honor to be called a nerd and be the first to hear about everything.

I don’t know how else to say it but I can’t think of any other words

You’re my safety. You’re my security. You’re my personal home that I get in human form. You’re the one that I go to first in every single situation if I ever need help or guidance or reassurance or feedback or advice or anything. You’re the one I want to marry and live with and have a life with and grow old with and become the best versions of ourselves with

You. All of you. I love your entirety.

You make me feel happier than I thought was possible, safer than I knew existed, more secure than I’ve ever known, more listened to and understood than anyone else ever has even tried to emulate

I just love you

And I want you to feel how I do when I’m with you. I want to give you the same feelings you give me. I don’t even know if that’s possible but it sure as hell won’t stop me from trying

I love you and it’s terrifying.

I didn’t know this kind of love was real. I feel like I don’t know what to do with it

Nothing feels right. Nothing feels good. Nothing feels worthwhile to the point where I just want to give up or go away for a bit.

I’m alone. I feel so fucking alone. Trapped inside my own mind, begging to be released from my own form. The screams and terrors and never ending dissonance finally catching up to me, forcing me to do nothing but wait for it to stop. I just hope it stops.

I want to turn away from all that I find good. I want to escape into a world of nothing and blankness, hell that’s already what it feels like I’m doing. My mind echoes words that have passed through more times than are able to be counted.

Leave. Go. Do nothing. Sit and sulk and be miserable and look at all that the world is doing without you. Please just this once let the fuck go.