i've locked myself in the bathroom. i sit here on the floor somewhere between tears, ready to break, ready to let go. i don't know where to go. i don't trust anyone. i want intimacy but deem everyone and everything inadequate. i am inadequate. i project my shortcomings onto the world. i want the world to go away, but it cannot. i still cannot pacify the urge to end my life. it seems the only way. i am alone. i can't stand being alone. i want them to go away. i can't stand their constant presence. everything aggitates me - all ends the same. i want to rest. i need to rest. i can hear her outside the door - the pages flipping. i can hear the other one through the wall - the television regurgitating. the hostility across the hall lingers in my mind. the outburst so slight but the preceeding build-up required little instigation. i need space, air, but i am still here.
i never call anyone. i never IM anyone. i haven't returned or written an e-mail in months. i lock myself away, embarrassed, only socializing with those who haven't seen through the facade. she called me hypocritical and condescending. i can't satisfy the expectations. i can't help but want to finalize our separation. i can't make myself understood. is it worth the frustration? should i have to justify myself to her? to them? i have enough. i have enough to disappear on. what holds me still here? my creative efforts are frustrated, impotent, not enough to survive upon. i am prepared to give up the crippling securities that bound me to this repetition, but i've yet to decide upon any direction. i will carry on without.
i never call anyone. i never IM anyone. i haven't returned or written an e-mail in months. i lock myself away, embarrassed, only socializing with those who haven't seen through the facade. she called me hypocritical and condescending. i can't satisfy the expectations. i can't help but want to finalize our separation. i can't make myself understood. is it worth the frustration? should i have to justify myself to her? to them? i have enough. i have enough to disappear on. what holds me still here? my creative efforts are frustrated, impotent, not enough to survive upon. i am prepared to give up the crippling securities that bound me to this repetition, but i've yet to decide upon any direction. i will carry on without.
* * *
i don't want to delude myself into thinking he could be my out. am i stalled or am i learning? he is a messenger, not a means. but can i trust him enough, let go enough to be so candid? my clumsy journey, i don't ask enough.
