No, Vanessa

Are you honestly my only friend in the world sometimes, and I’m always running away? How do I stop it? I think about you so often, it’s crazy  down to even the drinks I buy and the cigarettes I smoke. You call me and I don’t even hear the phone ring  I run into you, and it’s like I’m on autopilot  do you control me? Is that what the world tries to tell me? I’m stuck without you, and I can’t even seem to have faith in what either of us says anymore  I believed when I met you that I was destined to meet you, from my Journaling, my collections, the silly little games we played  I just am really stuck. I’ve been trying to listen to your last words and be there, always at the perfect time, but now I can’t find that time anymore. It’s not because I don’t love you, it’s that weird fear I have of losing you, like if I just give you up before it goes anywhere else, then somehow my own pain will stop

Should I call now? I’ve forgotten appropriateness, timing, and courtesy. I want it to be perfect but at the same time I am not, I’ve seen you in me, and yes, in a weird way it hurt me. But it makes me feel safe too to know you’re around, somehow, as horrible as you might think I am at following all the rules that now I can’t even remember.

It’s been a hard year, I just want to know where we stand. If I’m blocked right now, if we’re friends, if we can talk, if I’m still to try to move on despite that struggle… I don’t know how to get over you and because of what I felt when I would hang out with you, it’s like my body doesn’t want to as much as I want to honor your previous requests to.

I don’t want to get over you  I really don’t. It’s just that I can’t figure out how to because you’ve always been the one voice in my head I feel like, the destined voice. I feel like you want to be evil, like you want to ruin me. And that’s why I like you. Because I want to be good, to help you. And I’m going through the pain because maybe if I could last another 10-20-30 years, somehow things would become what they used to be for me. Safe inside my head. Safe curled on the couch with you. Safe away from everyone you might have had to filter out while you were doing what you gotta do. I wish I could say this verbally. I truly can’t for some reason, because maybe I’m the one trying to do good deeds to make up for a life of bad. And you sense that, feed off it, and I get addicted to the fact that you reflect, you outpour, you tell me what I wanted to hear, not what I needed. You tried to get rid of me, and that’s why I keep coming back. I’m the kind of guy that doesn’t know what to do when he’s told yes, like I haven’t deserved it, so at some point the no for me became my yes. Now I’m having a hard time telling the difference. Please, read this. A few times if you have to. That message was the only explanation I can give for why I’ve done what I’ve done. As much as I fear you for the loud voice, I shirk off the cues because I didn’t believe they were real, and judge because of my own imperfections, I really do care that you’re alright. I even wrote a letter to Chris in my journal praying he’d propose. I would do anything to see you happy again, even if it’s not with me. But all the insecure voices and blips that come out over frustration or cigarettes, I can’t handle those. The one time you came up to be intimate with me, under your breath you asked me to suicide. I don’t deserve that. I don’t need that. I try to doubt all the time it was on purpose, but since that night, I’ve lived in fear  I can’t anymore

I don’t know how to do the things you’ve asked me to do. And that means I can’t be with you  or it’ll haunt me forever. I’m sorry

Truly I love you. But I love myself too.

And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.