tell me your story again, please.

I am just about finished with seeking safety through unbendable estrangements. You were worth every mile, every scratch, and every shattered thought. Because all of that got me here to this place. You've had your fair share of disappointments, I've had my fair share of broken things. But now I'm so tired of chasing and going and running over the only pieces I have left. They cease to meet my eyes until I turn back and see the work I'll have to break my back over - only to chase and go and run again. It's my turn to wait and it's my turn to rest.

Do you think of me when you walk in the rain? Or do the complications of your setting decision take over? We might as well nurture these connections from a distance before the rhythm of repetitional downfalls attempt to remind us that this can't be happening. Not to you. Not to me. It's far too good. The silence is perfect and yet a torment. I know very well what underlies the compulsive side of my very nature and existence but it is my wish to escape all that I can no longer comprehend. Sometimes, even within this anxiety, I carry the occasional power of being able to see the world brilliantly. Clarity falls upon me with the weight of a crushing river. The narrative maze sometimes opens and permits me to pass through and I think of it as one of the tricks of consciousness: a mystery I will never fully grasp the concept of.

My hands are just too shaky too hold, my head is in a million different places. These are the things that happen when you look at me, count to three, and look away. I hope that what I have to give and who I am is enough to make you look again. It is inevitable that each of us will be misunderstood so if I stutter out words that don't seem to fit with each other, I hope you will understand. Sometimes I look at things close up and sometimes from a distance. I insist on showing myself in a sunny light, hardly ever giving a glimpse of those dark premonitions that tear away at my endurance. How did you break that piece of me as if it had never existed. It's just like they said it would be. You're everything they said you'd be.