2005-04-24

Weeping Guitars

"I was expecting a break-up..."

His voice is melancholic and even. It's lifeless, though.

"Whattaya mean?" It's stupid of me to ask if I already know the answer, but to think that he would doubt me.

"I'm out of college and I have to work 55 hours a week and get taxed off my ass. I realize that I don't have time to talk to you and I'm prepared if you need to leave me and run off with the first guy you meet at Rochester."

Holy shit my heart breaks. None of it is true, but he's become paranoid and I've become angrier and the combination reaches violently explosive consequences. I'm breathless and my body has become lead.

And this morning I woke up--crying, of course--and listening to Mozart's Requiem Kyrie because right now, it's the only piece with enough feeling and magnitude that can sit down and talk to me. Just to talk.

I want to scream sometimes. I want to stop getting so angry and apologize and stop being so scared, but everytime I look to the side there are those horrible thoughts smirking the smirk that they smirk when they're out to get me.

I understand that I'm a horrible person and that I struggle to be good but it doesn't come out because no good person is as capable of breeding anger and hatred in the way of which I am capable of doing.

And I've done so many things that've gone wrong, and, yes, I fuck up lots and lots and lots and lots and lots, lots, lots, lots, lots!

But how can I demonstrate that, no, I am not that fucking evil? Can I show him--without yelling--that sometimes I'm just hurt and angry and all I want to do is kill someone...only that person should never be him.

Goddamn I love him.

I'm wandering because I've lost myself and I've lost him--figuratively, of course. I hurt because he does and I'd do anything to make him the only person I look at, and to have patience...dear God, I'd give anything to have patience.

Another day approaches and I'm only waiting to drink the honeyed memories...

aeka at 8:14 a.m.