#;observing

i will tell you about selfish people. even when they know they will hurt you they walk into your life to taste you because you are the type of being they don’t want to miss out on. you are too much shine to not be felt. so when they have gotten a good look at everything you have to offer. when they have taken your skin your hair your secrets with them. when they realize how real this is. how much of a storm you are it hits them. that is when the cowardice sets in. that is when the person you thought they were is replaced by the sad reality of what they are. that is when they lose every fighting bone in their body and leave saying you will find better than me. you will stand there naked with half of them still hidden somewhere inside you and sob. asking them why they did it. why they forced you to love them when they had no intention of loving you back and they’ll say something along the lines of i just had to try. i had to give it a chance. it was you after all. but it isn’t romantic. it isn’t sweet. the idea that they were so engulfed by your existence they had to risk breaking it for the sake of knowing they weren’t the one missing out. your existence meant that little next to their curiosity of you. that is the thing about selfish people. they gamble entire beings. entire souls to please their own. one second they are holding you like the world in their lap and the next they have belittled you to a mere picture. one second. they swallow you up and whisper they want to spend the rest of their life with you. but the moment they sense fear. they are already halfway out the door. without having the nerve to let you go with grace. as if the human heart means that little to them. and after all this. after all the taking. the nerve. isn’t it sad and funny how people have more guts these days to undress you with their fingers than they do to pick up the phone and call. apologize. for the loss. and this is how you lose her.

To be human is to be free.  (Perhaps...that is not the entire truth.) To be understood is to be free. I've longed for it that feeling. The craving of being understood. (Rejection is the way I hate to feel the most.   Rejection is the knife that stabs when you least expect.    Rejection is the simple failure of being understood.) It's an addiction to me I think. Not as potent as the sweet taste of mint. Not as savory as the high of being entangled in sheets with a stranger. Not as receptive as the desire of dangerous intent. It's the taste of healing that gets me addicted. (I know I'm sick.  I know I shouldn't look to people to be the medication and the cure.    I know, yet; I look to them still. A dependence I could never break.) A feeling of being complete is what everyone desires, isn't it?  In the end we are all the same. Right?   We are all want to be understood.