I get to putting everyone's needs ahead of my own. And, of course, they usually don't see that because I don't say anything. I just do it. I make everyone else so important that my own needs don't get met.
I fall apart. Every little thing sets me off. The tiniest mention of anyone else's need or desire freaks me out. I want to scream...
IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU!!!
When the fact of it is, I've made it all about them. Not by any request of their own, but just by working myself into that mindset. I get all frustrated and anxious, and I do it to myself.
I don't remember when I wrote it. I do know that the last time it was posted here was October of 2005. Just before our first wedding anniversary.
Now I have scars healing to match the words.
Funny that it took that time apart to bring us to where I always dreamed we could be.
This is a slightly edited version, for my own sense of flow. It still doesn't sit quite right in the first half, but I'm trying to leave the artist aside for a moment. The idea is more important than the movement.
I want to scream cry laugh fall bite fuck kick yell dance fight live die I want passion. I want explosions in my head -- in my heart.
Spank me. Shake me. Love me. Hate me. Kiss me. Cut me. Run your fingers gently through my hair and then give it a tug that puts fire in my scalp, because I need you.
I need you.
Pull my bones apart, and make a wish.
Make a wish, Love. That star will travel to forever, and beyond. For you. For us.
There aren't many people in this world that I trust absolutely. Most of them I expect to fade away. Run away. Slip away. (Is this the cause or the result of how terrible I am at keeping in touch?)
I've said before that when I love, it's forever. I care about people that I shouldn't even think about any more. I think of them, and wonder if they're ok. (In some cases I know they're not, and I wish them growth and healing.)
I'm scared, though. Always afraid that those closest to me will leave. There are some -- very few -- that I have faith in, but still doubt creeps in when I am weak. I still worry that I might do or say or be the wrong thing, and it will be over. I will be alone. (You'd think with all of the stupid things I've done that they've stuck it through, I'd be a little more confident.)
Somewhere along the way, I got severely screwed up. Somehow, someone convinced me that I had to be perfect to deserve love.