The Anguish

Very little of them is understandable.

What you do with your life matters very little. All that matters to me is that you accept what I have done for you. I have done so much for you because I want you to be safe, and I want you to be loved, and I want you to die.

But when it is time to turn, none of the eye meet immediately. There is a longing from the hands of both, a forgetfulness that has been damning them for a long time.

I just want to feel that I am important to you. That I am not a mistake brought upon. That my life means something in your eyes and if I shine, you will shine with me.

You are as important as you make yourself to be, and if you think of yourself this lowly, then you are of nothing to anyone. You have failed miserably. That is what you have accomplished. Nothing. Even after everything I gave you. How do you think I feel?

They walk still, holding hands, but one is shivering, the other one is crying, one is still a man, weak and helpless, and the other one is still a man, just a tall man, with a head that has too many thoughts. But the thing they hold dear ends.

Still, even at the end, nevertheless, they don’t like each other very much, and they do not know how they will ever recover from the damage they have received from the other.

You are insane if you think you can get over me. I will think about you every day until I am dead. Both positively and negatively. Does that comfort you or fill with you dread? I know what it fills me with.

Why can’t you just tell me what you want from me?

I want you to stop being a useless sack of shit. Is that so hard to understand? I want you to hold my hand like you mean it. I want you to listen to what I’m saying and understand that you are not getting any better, and that every moment you waste talking with me, the contempt grows more and more. What a way to end it, don’t you think? You trembling like a coward and me, having to see that wretched face of yours contort in sadness.

They still hold each other, and stop where the sun sets. It seems like there is a lake, or a house, or a fog, or a tree, and they are all disappearing exactly at the same time, and they are pulling and pushing each other away and closer to each other. They can’t tell who is doing what and for what reason.

Did you listen to what I said? Do you understand?

I don’t understand, when I have done everything so good with just the right amount of insecurities and flaws. This is who I am. There is nothing wrong with it. I can change. I can’t change. Whichever one works.

Nothing works. Not for you. That is what I will try to get. You are who you are because of me.