#conversationswithmyself

i woke up crying this morning.

i opened my eyes to find tears already staining my cheeks and i thought "there's something wrong with me."

well you've known that for years

"or theres something wrong with the world"

you've known that for years too

there is so much balled up baggage festering inside my chest i think one day its just going to burst of out me and i'll explode into a supernova of anger and misery and catharsis.

it will be beautiful.

let some of it out then! oh, i couldn't possibly. go on, you deserve it, get it off your chest! well okay maybe one or two or three or four things...

one.

friends leave you. or they become one step removed and leave you with a lingering 'what if...?'

you cant have that kiss back. its mine. you gave it to me. no returns policy i'm afraid.

so you ruin it beyond recognition. if i get to keep it its sure as hell not gonna be pretty.

two.

i have not forgiven him. i will not forgive him. he doesn't even know he needs forgiveness.

oh, but he's already recieved the ultimate absolution from the great big man in the sky! he's a bonafide born again christian! he redeemed himself and now you don't get to be angry.

he didnt kill her but he may as well have.

three.

you were alone and you are alone and you will be alone. its better to accept this now.

dont tell them and dont even entertain the idea. you know its better this way, don't you?

four.

what do you do when every memory in your life is intertwined with something you now despise? can you hack it out? get rid of the problem at its root? let me get my axe, honey, i'm about to destroy half of myself in the name of closure.

its a messy divorce, its an unfair eviction, its a baby bird too small to fly, its not you, its me. except its you. my god, its always been you.

i've unpacked my suitcase, spilled my dirty laundry on the floor. i thought i was home but i don't think i have one anymore.

i dont understand how this washing machine works. does anyone understand how this washing machine works? no?

so i'll hand wash it then. but oh! oh no now look what i've done. i've ripped my favourite shirt, and that one's shrunk as well, and my hands are are all red and pruney, and i have all this dirty water right in front of me. my brain says drink it so i do.

i havent exploded yet. this was just a solar flare. there is worse to come, but i think i'll like being a black hole. at least then i can consume things and not feel guilty about it.

[ID: A square photo of a poem in white text on a black background with a red splatter in the bottom right corner. The text reads:

"i've known you my whole life

yet i know nothing about you

you are people

like any other person

yet you are figureheads

unmoving

unchanging

how i've built you in my mind

refusing to see

the imperfections

the flaws

the fuck ups

how youve fucked me up

through no purposeful fault of your own

but through a cruel cocktail

of what you lacked and what i needed

(what you still lack and what i still need)

this poison fills my cup

the edges overflowing

spilling onto the floor

like drops of my blood

(drops of our blood)

and i cry out silently

'take this cup away from me!'

yet

that is not what you taught me

you taught me that he drinks

(not my will but yours)

so he drinks until the cup is drained

and the sins are gone

and the people are happy

and everyone is forgiven

and he is passed out on the bathroom floor

drunk

crying

bleeding

dying.

no.

this is not what happens.

instead

i empty the cup

watching the swirls of red

twist round

and round

the plughole

i turn on the tap

washing away the wine stains

staring until

the sink

is clean.

the liquid is gone

but i am left

with the weight

of my own sins

and those of my forefathers

and the knowledge

of what we've done to eachother

the blood of the covenant and the water of the womb

i want to burst free from myself

from the chains that bind me

to my own self hatred

(inside my mind / outside my body)

and crawl inside you

to learn what you hide from me

(inside your body / outside your mind)

to see all of the dirty parts

that are hidden from the world

that lurk and rot and stagnate

down in the dark

to know that

i can see the worst of someone

and love them still

so that maybe

the same is possible

for someone else

of me

turn me inside out

i beg of you

[ID: An image of a poem on a dark purple background with pink texture crackles around the white text. The poem reads:

“love me love me love me

by thomas (@mayjeffneverstopyou)

 \

there is a thing

trapped in my chest

trying to get out

it pleads and cries

and thrashes and dies

every night

and is reborn every morning

 \

it is screaming

love me

love me

love me

 \

and the creature

made of mouths

is offered what it wants

it drinks and takes

and drains and makes

them give more

than they had planned

 \

but still it screams

love me

love me

love me

 \

so this monster

latches onto

the unsuspecting fool

it rips and rends

and consumes and ends

the source of love supplied

 \

and once again it screams

love me

love me