I'm sorry. You know me. I'm impulsive.
At our best we are love, but at my worst I've been self-doubting and fearful. For so long I wanted to be everything to/for you; all the while thinking it would never be enough. I would never be enough...externally. Not slim enough. Not pretty enough. Not...
I need you to forgive me...because I had the monkey of 15 years of "love" oppression on my back. Now I can say I'm rehabilitated and well. But not so long ago, all was not. Moments were dark and insecurities kept me up at night. Some nights. I alone. Staring into the mirror at a body permanently marked by bad choices. Oh god...nothing but surgery will ever fix this. What have I done?
You made me feel new, and that's how I wanted to look for you. And who was I to offer this worn version, when I loved you enough to believe, really believe that you deserved much more? Perfection. So I cried, sense of accomplishment hindered by omnipresent feelings of inadequacy and voices from my past.
"Your body is shaped so...odd."
"No man will ever want you."
"You talk/think/act like a dude."
"You're too...down."
Too much? Too little? Lord help me, it's never enough. My spirit faltered and I believed. Weakened, I was easy pickings. Any vulture worth his salt could have got at me. Got to me. Convinced me there was acceptance in all areas...that one thing I'd longed for but never, ever gotten. What I now realize was clever manipulation didn't seem so back then. Yeah you're right, I'd agree , grimacing as I swallowed the bullshit. I shouldn't pin my hopes on...on...because you're right here and...and...
But no, I was never the victim. I set myself up. Felt like I'd taken notes from Miss Joan on just the right angle and arc of sacrifice. Fire burning ultimate truth for at hand reality. How easily we come to the fork between passion and sediment...and choose the wrong path. Ignore how good this is for how manageable is that.
I remember though...you did it to me first. Chose the comfort and security of a years ago connection over a growing we. Lies of omission until the weight of your decision became unbearable. You loved me enough to feel you owed me the telling. Of her.
And.I.died. that day. Of mortification. From rejection. Asked Spirit and self what I'd done wrong. Again. Torturous thoughts. Was I too clingy? Too careful? How could he not know? Why...why this again? Never enough. I typically don't, but can't help but to, in moments like this; remember the pain. Those endless weeks of insomnia and tears. Oooh...how I mourned we. How I got on my knees and prayed that you would come back to me. That you would see....
All I've ever wanted to do was love you. All I've ever wanted was the best for you, even when sometimes feeling it wasn't me. But before even hello, I've been yours...to do with as you please. Realize how long it's been and that this is not the first time the gears have "switched". Read me back to front. Comprehend. You're everywhere. Any words spoken of love, passion, want, need...are you. Remember you telling me I was crazy to feel this way? Back then I thought the same so I pulled whole love down into my hidden place. Anything to make you feel safe. Anything so you would not leave me.
I'm telling you this 'cause I be naked now with no shame.
Too many guys think I'm a concept. Even you for a time. Venusian moon reflecting Mars' light. Sometimes the other way around. But mostly,I'm just a fucked up girl that had to lose her just-won peace of mind to put things in perspective. Had to fight me to the death to see the truth of I in you. Life is circular until we get it 9:15. And sometimes two mistakes have to be made to draw one conclusion -
you and I are IT.
Never believe that my love for you has ever lain fallow. I could show you reams of fantasies...secret wishful projections into an uncertain future. Offer you eyewitness accounts of how I've burned for you; the way I glitter and gleam when I speak of you. Even from him.
But regardless of supporting evidence, you've got to know that I'm still your willing slave. Feel you worthy of effort, and have no issue with working to regain your trust (if lost). We've been here before, haven't we? Just inversely proportionate.
I need you to forgive me. Have faith in we. Allow your tabula to be just as rasa as mine was...seems like eons ago. So that we may rewrite. This time with no ending in sight...
Tell me you're with me.
Posted by Lisa at May 26, 2007 10:57 PM