How To End the Enviable

I’m drawn to men that are an incredible complication to figure out. They are emotionally, distance wise, what have you, difficult to attain. The fact is I can’t quite have them. They slip through my fingertips like grains of sand. I don’t mind this, because I so rarely feel any emotions in relation to anything.
I felt something for someone and he vanished right as I became aware of this. My heart went on immediate shutdown mode. My body was set afire with want, desire, craving touch like it had been in an unending starvation. A self inflicted hibernation where I nearly lost what it felt like to give in to something feeling… good. Maybe even fucking great.
Except now something stirred. Like an ancient monster lying dormant underneath the surface of my armor. I snuff it out but the embers barely burn beneath the skin of my submission.
I find myself looking at a picture. And smiling at it since it’s the first one ever sent by him via text. The first thought is that he’s just as handsome as I remembered in my photographic memory. His face has a barely there contained smirk. It reminds me of how my face looks like when I try to force a grin.
I’m drawn to him in a way that is unexplainable. Like a moth to the flame, I want to figure out what this is. And, in the same sense I want to run so far away from it as quickly as I can. He disappears, reappears, one of those men I can’t quite pin down. Hell, I want to, I’m compelled by this one side of me to figure it out.
My eyes trace over the lines of his features. It’s something I catch myself doing and I etch the details into my memory.
I don’t want to let him into my world. It’s complicated and anything but black and white. I’m a woman who can’t be contained.
Have you ever loved someone so intensely that you kill and bury the most important part of yourself?
There’s this constant prayer, communion, of how that love was first sparked. Like the Big Bang theory in relation to relationships. Covering up that essential need in layers of walls that can’t be destroyed.
Until they finally crumble to pieces and you’re left as the most extreme version of this trait. A monster on a one track mission. Not looking to destroy or hurt anyone, but you know it’s only a matter of time.
The person who matters the most keeps becoming a casualty of your callous nature. There is this acknowledgement things are over, but neither will release the other from the noose. It binds around our necks, suffocating us in the disaster of this failed relationship.
I knew relationships were doomed from the start. That there’s this corrosion that happens where it festers like gangrene. Normally, you shred and shed the situation easily. Somehow this time it’s not so simple, because it’s more a complicated number of steps to follow. We admit the end, yet it’s never severed.
It’s like a dead limb that has no blood being pumped within it. It’s only a stump attached to the body, dragging behind precariously.
“We’re resolved there is no solution, but we’re not. Because we can’t pull the trigger to end our self imposed misery.”
It’s over. But it’s not. Another could begin. Yet, it won’t, because there’s this refusal to be destroyed again. Fairy tales and happy endings are bullshit. There was this naive thought where it had been achieved for my life, except it hasn’t. Not at all.
This life needs to start anew. Through the ashes of the death of my most important thing I’ve had. Like a Phoenix rising from its own destruction.
Breathe life into me, but don’t ever touch my lips with yours.
You made it to the bottom… yay. If you dig this, ❤️️ it! Please and cupcakes. (Or… that’s what they tell me to do at least.)
