Disconnect My Heart, My Head.

And today was a day just like any other.

I'm on the verge; I'm on the verge, unraveling with every word. I couldn't have written better words myself. Everything is fading and falling, save two threads that are holding me together. Two links to my sanity. Two lines to my life. Two bodies with my heart beating inside them. That's what I got. I can't imagine today without them. I've always been afraid of the dark, and today is the darkest I've seen in years. You don't know how badly I want to understand. I am pushed away at every available opening, and it's impossible to feel like much value rests on shoulders that are forgotten. I can't keep anything around; I can't make anyone stay. Am I the queen of fatal flaws and deadly mistakes?

I feel like everyday I'm trying to be perfect, and at the end of the day, none of my good deeds go unpunished. One slip up in an otherwise perfect performance is enough for a hand slap. Unchangeable mistakes are enough to forget me altogether. What about me is so goddamn easy to let go of? I think I've only gotten it right with my two threads. I can't describe how much better I feel when they're around. The two who never let me forget that I am good are keeping me alive. Why can I only get it right with them?

There's one in my life who cares so deeply just to meet my iron fist. I'm not sorry that I rebuked them, but I still feel terrible to take the fight out of them. This person fights because they care. Irrationally loving and the same as their opponent in attitude. Can't you see? You're just like what you fight and I want you to be careful. I have to fight alone, and I can't take advice colored with bias. Blame me blame me blame me. I know it has to hurt but I need peace of mind and your polar words don't make it any easier.

There's another, the opponent. Words can't describe how deeply hurt I am and yet it feels irrelevant. I'm holding the knife and they're bleeding on the floor. I feel framed. Why can't anyone see the holes in my heart? I'm inflicted too; I want to scream it but pity seeking isn't allowed by my pride. All I want is this to be better. But am I a bad person in your eyes? I never called you one; I don't think you are, despite it all. I am upset that my right to hurt is apparently transparent, but god knows I acknowledge yours. I want the past to stay past. Why do you dwell on your anger? Why can't you take my hand again? Here I am, willing, but my arm's getting sore from the hours I've spent holding it out. We have a lot of ironing to do, but I have the tolerance and will and love to do it; tell me you do too.

Yet another. I guess I can't say things are bad with this one, but I wouldn't call them good. A friendship is agreed on and yet I haven't heard from you since. You're always running away, and I'm always sitting in your dust. Why am I not good enough for your time? I feel like even at this level you pass me off. I never was enough to keep around, but I was a fine way to bide time. You don't know what it feels like to be insufficient. I know you're not worth my time, and everyone says I'm definitely worth yours, that you're lucky, but I'm here anyway. It's me going 75, you a solid 25. What a fool. I never was worth it, I guess.

So why is it that I always come up short? Usually I get a pat on the head and some kind words like, "You're a good person; you're nice, etc." Words on repeat lose their meaning. You can only be told so many times that people are lucky to have you around before you feel like you really aren't a good luck charm at all. People let go of me all the time like I never meant anything. How do they drop memories like that? I must be lacking something because it's never that easy for me. I'm tired of being left behind and dropped by people I trusted enough to give my all. It's never enough, but it's all I have. Will it ever be sufficient?

Fuck being a nice girl, a good person, kind, and loving. I'm proud of it, but it's never nice, good, kind, or loving enough. Everyone else just gets angry and drops the sunshine. My rays aren't bright enough, and I must not be very good at making other people beautiful. It's never worth the risk to keep me around; it's never worth whatever it is keeping someone from jumping to dive with me. I guess in the end I'm just nothing special. I'm not worth fighting to keep, and I'm not worth taking risks. It's cool, at least I know that now.

I have my two that always mean every word they say. My two angels are always there to say and mean what everyone else uses as their kiss off. I would have no faith at all if they weren't around. They're keeping the sun shining in me, and because of them, the hope hasn't gone out in me. I'm always holding out hope for people to come around. It puts me in a position where I can always be let down but then again, "you're also always being surprised, and that's so worth it."

Cause all I taste is blood between my teeth. As I'm find the words, you're getting away...