The Promise.

There's a recall on my heart; this means I need it back right now,
I don't care who you are or what you've done for me.
There's a free fall taking place and if I don't find land somehow... point is,
I don't see any point in loving anything if I'll soon be dead.

So, no I don't love you.
Yes, it's tearing me apart
No, This wasn't my choice
But I've lost my voice amongst myself.

I've given way to fallen comrades and bosses
I'm taking head of the words of the more experienced.
I'm all but lost and If I do lose my way I'll be done for way more than a couple of days.
So let me leave, I'm never coming back. You won't have to hear my voice again,
because I'm never coming back.

This is my final choice, my heart is done with all this play time. It's time to work, I need you to understand that. I'm so done with you. I look at you and all I feel is pain and apathy. I stare long and hard into nothing and I see the reason that I'm staring. That there's nothing here for me. There's nothing that I want from you anymore and I'm so sorry that I can't stick around. This is my promise though: That I'm done coming back to our brokenness. I never made the only promise that matters, so I have no obligation to come back and I won't feel bad next time you call me. Of course, I know that's a lie. The biggest lie I've ever told and. Well. I fucking miss you.

     I promise that I'm not coming back and this time my promise won't be broken. If I do break this promise, though, I'll have already forgotten about it all of this will be long gone. Don't even think about calling me again as long as you can see this is your rear view.

The Request.

     Please shut up. Please just shut the fuck up. I can't feel my heart right now. I'm having to remind my body, physically, how to breathe. I become light headed and it feels much better compared to this. I can't pass out though, this is much to good to pass up. An opportunity to have you leave me with grace? forever? Shit, why didn't this happen before. Now all hope is ruined, I believe. you're regret to once have had any of this kills me. It tears me apart and makes me ill. I feel so sick. I can't eat, even though hunger is the only feeling that I'm sure of right now. I can't stop crying, I'm not holding anything back, Monica is useless to me now. She doesn't sleep with me anymore and when I try to cuddle she just walks away.

     I wish you would just stop talking. If I have to answer another question, Jane, I'll go fucking crazy. Please just shut up. This is my only request that you just stop talking. Just stop trying to make contact with me and my friends. It's clear to me as it should be to you that nothing but pain and suffering comes from that. So just stop before I have to call the authorities and have you hauled away for murder. I see blood everywhere leading up to your hands and you hold the weapon of destruction.

     The blood leads up to your mouth and stops somewhere along your tongue. Coincidence? I think not. You have murdered my tender heart with your words and I have hardened it against you. Some of those that I love, though, are still getting residual toughness from it. This makes me sad, it truly does. For I hate, as you know, to see those I love in despair, especially when caused, even if not prevented by me. My immortal body is weakened and it does me no good. My ever-failing soul is loosely reminiscent of the life-span of a fly. Short lived, with no realization of self.

     Please just shut up. I can't inhale any more by force. If I hear your voice one more time, I will forget, again, how to breathe. I am so tired, so very very tired. I'm am merely closing eyes. I must be careful with my concentration, for if I blink, it dies. Please. Just shut up.

The Letdown.

     I wait patiently being much more at peace than I should be. I suppose I just realize that freaking out about every missed phone call and late-answered text doesn't help anything. Still though, I do realize that I've done you wrong and fallen short of all the meager expectations you had of me. you're disappointed and it's me, you're sad and it's my doing. The worst part about that is, I know it. I just begin to think, non stop, about everyone that I know, that if I would just not try to do my best in the first place, I wouldn't fail. It seems like that's all I do anymore. I've failed you.

     I'm in trouble with my only friend, and in the night and in my dreams, she wears a mask and she frightens me. She causes me to feel troubled and she eats my happiness for breakfast. At least she's not starving, though, because I'm not inhumane, I'll let her eat. I have long feared that I would let her down. I have long feared that I would give up trying. I believe I've come close to trying. I'm so sorry. The only words I can think. I'm so sorry. I'm blinking over and over because I'm in a hurry and all the rays of light seem to be aiming only to blind me. Tears are running dry, now that I've realized how far down I have let this become.

      I'm so sorry, please, please please understand that I had no ill will in what I did tonight. More importantly though, please forgive me. I do not know why, my girl, I did what I did. I don't know why I am still pondering it, for I wish I could just move on and make it all better. As long as you're down though, I'll know that I let it be so and I can't live with that. I didn't think, and I walked away. I didn't let you take control. I'm not a control freak and I don't have trust issues, I just didn't think.

     I now find myself in that position in which I'm frightened. I'm frightened to death by my own desire to cause such a side effect. I want to cry so badly but I can't because, lately I've been holding it all in. Clearly, you aren't enough to me to make me want to cry. I don't even know what I'm doing here. I don't know. I'm distraught because I know that you're disappointed in me, but you have no reason to be. What you think I've done I have not done, but I can't let you know that because then you would be the bad guy and then you would be sad. I can hide it, though. I won't let you know that you hurt me. I'm sorry. Please forgive me.

The Issue.

Dad, I'm coming home this world is much to rough on your poor son, and I'm so sorry I didn't listen, but now I'll be right where I belong.
I've never been able to fight my tears and I've never been able to deny that you were right all along

Then you said to me: "Son, I don't care whose right or wrong, I just hate your face so long and I know I wasn't always perfect but I did my best and a better son I could not elect.
You are finding your way out there and since you're the last, I suppose I'm a bit scared; When you're alone, though, out there by your self, I will always pray hard, fast and long, that you remember how much, to me, you are, and that no matter where you fit in, never forget that only in your mind, can you find a place, that you truly belong. "

"I've always known that you love me. I always have as well.
I've always thanked Him for where I was placed,
and for that sweet, blooming blossom, he's put in my mouth to taste.
It grew into a flower and stopped at nothing to give me wealth,
You worked so hard, loved so perfect and yielded, in me, such health.

I grew tired, at one point, of your tender ways.
I was locked in despair trying to flee from your gaze.
I passed the time in sleep and in my dreams I ended yours
I woke up only in necessity and exhaled from my lungs the hate that grew for you.
As I ate, I plotted your end and feared the very air that you touched.
I feared letting you down. I never hated you, I never have.
I wore a deceiving frown. "Do you hate me?"
was your question, so sincere.
"I never have," was my reply, engulfed in tear.

I now think of all you did for me.
I now think of all you do for me, and in
those thoughts
unending love I've found.
In my mind
unending grace I've found.

My thoughts and my mind, though are deceiving.
They live in fear and feed off of fairy tale.

The Solitude.

     I just sing to myself and watch her. Listen to this song and sing it as terribly as I possibly can. I sing really horribly, really I do. I really wish that I could sing better, or at least a bit decently. At night when I first started, all words escaped me. Now in the light I can see, though and her tail is wrapped around her feet. Her tongue is rough and little and her eyes are wide. She dreams of outside yet it seems that of her dreams, she is frightened. I too am terrified of my dreams, for in them I end you and in them I get what I want. I am scared, though, that I don't deserve what I want and because of that will not end up happy. I fear that the worst that can happen to me, will happen to me. Every time I fly I pray for a mid-air collision. Whenever I drive beside oncoming traffic, I dream of a car losing control and hitting me. Hard. And I dream of my death and the peace that it will bring me. I'm tired of dreaming, maybe that's what that is. No, that can't be what it is. Maybe it's because I miss you, or maybe it's because I've had too much of you. . . I can't decide which it is. Hold me, you're here and then you're gone, love, like a dream && like a sigh. Tell me you're hearing every word now, like a song love, like a song.

     Don't cry, Don't cry. This is a happy moment, and I'm glad that you have it, even without me. For I am here, not looking, cringing, sighing. Slapping myself for not putting myself in the position to be there with you. No one's got it all. This is an absolute truth in my mind. It is a law of the world and no matter how hard you try to look, you can't find someone who has got it all. I know you think that you might be that person, and I know that you might think that you know that person but you must not know this law. Look, dig deeper and find what it is that you or this person does not have. You will find something, I promise. I am alone. I am alone. there is no one that I can talk to you, much less you. You told me that you had to go and that we could not be friends. I wouldn't mind your voice if you would make up your damn mind, Jane. In fact, I would love it. I love it. Just stop. Start over and forget about what just happened, and you won't hurt me.

     No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

I keep a wolf at my door,
but he calls me up, calls me on the phone
tells me all the ways that he's gonna mess me up
steal all my children if I don't pay the ransom, and
I'll never see them again if I squeal to the cops.

The Response.

     Jane, I'l never forgive myself. I'll never stop crying, knowing that I let you down. Knowing that I let you think of me so. Knowing that I'll just be something in your back pocket. I am full of regret, but it's not because of what we had or anything we did. It's because I wasn't strong enough for you and I'm glad that you see that now. You don't have to lie to the people. I'm a big boy I can deal with the truth. I mean, I can live with it. Just barely. I'm sad, I am so sad and I'm holding onto you and I don't know why. I'm holding onto your number and your letters and your jacket which I sleep with every night. God knows that I don't want to feel this way. Yes, yes it hurt. It hurt more than I can imagine and it still does now. I can't remember the last time I cried. I forgot what it felt like. I forgot how it burned my eyes and how it stopped me from breathing.

     This is my true response to how I'm feeling. After the initial wave of shock and anger washes over me this is how I truly feel. I feel sad. I feel lost and I feel stupid for letting myself be out of control to the point that I had to let you go. This isn't much better, actually it's not any better. I won't put you through it again but if I could I would. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. Please. That's all I'm asking. You don't ever have to talk to me again or tell me a single word, not even that you forgive me. Just know that I beg for your forgiveness. I would play with spiders for a chance to get you back. I would go blind and lose my musical ability for you. To hold you close emotionally. To be able to think of you as mine and think of you as owning me. I would give up ever being able to touch you again if I could just see your smile in response to something that I did.

     This fallout is irreparable though. It's my fault, because I screwed up so immensely and because I pushed  until I really pushed myself off the edge. I'm so stupid for saying everything I ever said to anyone about you negative. I won't be happy again for a long time. I won't stop crying all night again for a long time. I won't stop spacing out at work and spilling drinks for a long time. Of course I care, I care perhaps still too much. My chest hurts, where my heart used to be, and I won't even try to blame you for taking it. You didn't take it, I know that. I have been subconsciously carving it out of my body so slowly.

     I didn't expect to lose you so completely so quickly. I thought you were fine waiting. I thought we agreed upon that. I don't know if I can live a life without you. I want you to come back just enough to be barely visible. That's all I want.

The Measure.

     A quick glance to the right and I see the true measure of what I've done.
The true measure of what you'd said and the truth that it held.
I'm sick, and I can't help but want to just sit here and sulk.
I've got work to do, though, and now that you're out I'm supposed to be able to do it.
I don't know, though, if I can. I've too much on my mind and you're not around for me to spill.
To talk and chat and poke fun. I miss what we had that was good, who wouldn't? Sad to say, though, that I very excitedly dismiss the bad with much more enthusiasm than I miss the good and if that made any sense at all, I'm glad you might understand now.
It seems to me however, that you never will understand what it is that I really mean when I say the words that I say. I speak truth and I mean understanding, but you always seem to hear lies and confusion.

     I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight, Monica is the worst sleeping partner, she doesn't comfort me at all. She just lays there like a beached whale. Honestly, laying in bed for those ten minutes before I got that phone call were the worst minutes of my life. Not even Felicity hurt me this badly. I haven't changed my opinion of her, nor have I exacted indifference for you, but I just don't understand why you did that.
I can't believe how much, still, it hurts. I can't even begin to fathom what would be happening right now if I was completely alone. I'm sorry, I suppose, for what I made you believe that I did to you. I still regret nothing, but there's no way I'd do any of it again.

     I listened as she spilled her heart. She does not make me sorry. Now I know, though, that she never listened. All that she said about me and about what she thought that I meant, was exactly the opposite of what I told her.

     And now it's rough, and I can't believe I once considered that to be o.k. I guess this is the only way I will be able to advance, though. I won't let anyone know anything from here on out, and when I break down at night, I won't even bother to think twice about you.

The Hate.

     I cannot tell with you how much certainty I hate her right now. In other words, for you more simple minded, I'm not sure if I hate her right now or not. I know you're gone but I still dream about you, your perfume has long since faded but I still smell you and it's been months since I've seen your face but I can never forget what your smile looks like.
 
     I looked back on our times and I looked underneath every rock and dug up every buried hatchet to inspect it more vigorously to find that my memories of you are truth. That is, the memories of your lies, and deceit. I thought I might look back to see if anything had changed for the better but it has not. Which is unfair. It makes me restless. It makes me think too much at night, lose sleep and miss breakfast. So now I'm hungry, thanks a lot.
 
     In a roundabout way, which I hate, this is my 'congratulations, I hate you.' piece.
Congrats, I've probably spent more hours thinking about you then I have sleeping in the past week.
Congrats, your cold near dead heart has been the focus of my love for almost 3 months.
Congrats, your smile made me smile when I thought that it was real.
Congrats, it still makes me smile.

     I've made a list of the reasons why I should no longer think of you. I've read that list every night for the past year and throughout said year, each night I read the list, it all seems more and more ridiculous. You frighten me. You make my skin crawl and not in that nervous way, like that of being with my love. It crawls with death, and in that death is the representation of how much I hate you.

     More than you, though, I hate myself. I saw this coming from a mile away and every time I tried to dodge the train you coaxed me into stepping back onto the tracks just before the train passed. I hate myself for being so weak. I hate myself for losing track of what I knew was most important. I'm worlds apart from myself and I have no way of travel. I've been trying to find a way to join the two but I can't find the technology. I hate from so far away even when I'm talking right to you, it seems. I'm never all there and everything I feel just festers in my mind. Boils and curdles. It never spills over and never tastes sour, but when it's cooking and over heating, I know its there. I try to stop trying; but then I just don't try enough. I try to do my best; but then I fail at everything.

     Your mascara is running and I know I've said this before but you don't make me sorry. For now I know, that you never listened. I watch you, you know, as you wipe your eyes and it doesn't change a thing about how I feel. The Hate. That is all.

The Torture.

Torture is literally the only word that I can think of right now. Well not at this exact moment. At that moment, though, when I was thinking of this word and of how your words were doing such a thing, was all I could think. I passed over that bright blue shirt four times and I almost hit that security guard twice.

     That torture that ensued from your mouth and into my ears is so real, and I screamed, when you thought the phone cut out and I hit mute. I screamed when I was alone, with that song up all the way and I'm pretty sure with Monica by my side, I'll cry a little bit tonight as the knife digs deeper, grows a serrated edge and twists in my side. The pain will become unbearable and I'll think about replacing the metaphorical knife with a couple of real ones. I don't need any more scars though. They weren't worth the trouble. I also think, furthermore that you aren't worth the trouble to be in any kind of depressed state, but I have to let myself be human a little bit don't I? I do, indeed. I'm tired of being a robot. Your robot.

     Scratching my nails against a chalk board and plucking my eyes out, I wait.
     I wait for a sign from my own mind that it's ok for me to move on and stop crying.
     I don't think it will come though, in the foreseeable future, and maybe I will be alone and sad forever.
     Maybe I will miss you just a touch more than I had previously thought.
     Or maybe I'll give in and go back, but no, no you promised.
     And your promises are good, mine aren't though, so I won't even bother.

     How dare you treat and talk to me that way!? Can't you see that this has nothing to do with me wanting to leave and hurt you. You think that, sure but you're so blind and ignorant. Even that damn wolf wouldn't frighten me to silence now. I've had enough & I'm screaming, out loud in my own head and I'm tearing every single shred of evidence that you ever existed in my eyes and in my world, you will fall through the cracks.
 
     Perhaps I've said to much, or perhaps I've pulled my punch and you will recover. I don't know which makes me more sad. That I can't tell you what I'm thinking or that I'm hurting you in the process. You're so fragile though. You're like a beautiful plate that's so fragile it can only be cleaned by hand. That's exhausting though. You wore me out and you never saw it. I was dead tired and I missed out on so much and I was growing tired of feeling like I HAD to answer your call. I wanted to want to answer all of them, but I knew that the second I answered it or the second I let you know I was online, something would be wrong and I would have to fix it. Every problem has a solution, sure. Not every problem, though, is a problem worth fixing.

     There are two colors in your world, the quality is bad and the good channels are always fuzzy. You're expecting someone or something to fix the bad t.v. and channels? I'm telling you, that you can fix it. It's a fact, those that are truly happy AND can see in color, did it for themselves, and sure they had help and people that supported them. I can't deny that. Support though, is never an excuse to lean so heavily on someone else. LISTEN TO ME.

     That day, I woke up as a cave dweller, my eyes were burned by light and my skin crawled in reaction to heat and open air. I awoke, able to see the difference between dark and light. I woke up free to hurt myself in exploration. I didn't have anybody hovering over me, waiting to take away my fun because that was theirs. Freedom isn't the opportunity to tell someone what to do to make you happy. Freedom is what allows you to do what makes you happy. I have freedom, and so do you. You abused your freedom with threats and rules against me. I tried my best to use my freedom to be happy. I know that I can't do that with you, because you limit my freedom. I just want to be Free, my love. Jane I just want to be able to come home and not feel like I have to love you. I tried just doing so, and it always felt like a job. It wasn't worth it. I'm sorry. Goodbye.