3:39 p.m. | 2004-07-03
What Do I Offer You, After All?

Sometimes I wonder if I'm destroying myself. If I do things that I want so bad that...they hurt me.

Oh love it's a brittle madness,
I sing about it in all my sadness
It's not falsified to say that I found god.

So, inevitably, well, it still exists pale and fine.

I can't dismiss
And I won't resist
And if I die well at least I tried

And we just lay awake in lust
And rust in the rain
And pour over everything we say we trust

Well it happened again.
I listened in thru hallways and thin doors
Where the rivers unwind, rust and in the rain endure

It felt so good...to have him at my side. To have him running his callused hands through my hair. To have his breath against my face. To feel him next to me, under my soft sheets, skin on skin.

Yet. I disgust myself. I shouldn't have, should I? I shouldn't have teased him, and put my leg against his at dinner, and talked the way I do where I move my lips a lot and lick them seductively. I shouldn't have...should I? I mean I feel good. I feel satisfied. I feel like I used him.

Who am I to say that though...he was the one who used me, remember? Who never clarified that I was nothing to him but sex? Who told me that I was one of the most amazing girls he'd ever met, and he wished he could have someone like me but...remember...I'm not "the one."

I still chide him. I still joke, and smile, and I'm cool. In fact, I'm the coolest version of me I've ever seen. I talk smart. I'm eloquent. I laugh heartily and smile a lot. I tease. I kiss. I'm ok with anything. It all goes.

I've lost it.

This boy doesn't love me, but I love being with him. I don't want him, I really don't, but I do want someone who can do that for me. I do want someone who will hold my hand. I do want someone who will laugh at me, nicely. I do want someone who is those 5 things I need him to be (intelligent, funny, compassionate, loving, and passionate).

I need him to make me whole. I'm afraid I'll kill myself trying to find him. I'm afraid I'll damage myself so hard on the inside that when I do meet him...I'll be so jaded I won't notice.

When will you ever notice that I love you?

I say prophetic things. I "exude intelligence." I offer as much as I can; show off my best features, and hide my worst.

I'm twisted. And hurt. And jaded. And full of baggage. And silly. And simple minded. And I make things harder. I fuck things up--please forgive me.

I'm not sure that I should be allowed to touch you ever again. I'm afraid it will tear my heart from me for the last time and I couldn't take it.

Don't offer me your sympathy--offer me your heart.

Signing Off--Lauren

ante / comment / post