Things I Carry

November 8, 2016
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I find myself having to turn my head parallel to a sky scraper to look into the flowing caramel of a man's eyes, for I am of no comparison to his height. Hair longer than my own and that cocky smirk of his for which he opens only so slightly. It drips melodic words swaying in the sound-waves as they fall into my ears, pulling the corners of my mouth upwards like a puppet. His persona reminds me of a snake: smooth, sly, and almost deadly. In fact, it was deadly. At least to me with the constant games of seeing who can hurt the other one the most.

Maybe I fall too fast, maybe I love too much, maybe I just chose the wrong people, maybe I’m in love with the pain. For I will always carry his memory, he will not allow me to forget how there were days where the only thing that could take me out of that state where I was locked in that dark room with chains upon chains until it bulged out like a pregnant woman's belly was him. One day, just one day, maybe I could look upon his memory and not be hurt by it anymore. To stop being hurt by the thought of me not being good enough, the thought that I am the reason for our downfall. Maybe I'm somewhat smart or some may consider brave for breaking away from him, for the realization that this is not the kind of relationship I want nor deserve.

The hardest thing to carry is the thought of the ruined friendship. A friendship that only existed throughout the wavelengths sent from satellite to satellite until it reached the phone in my hand making the screen light up with the easing letters in his name for at that time, it was the only name I wished to see. Sometimes the my own gluttony urges me to correspond with him again; for he was the drug surging through my veins and I could never get enough.

The worst part is the realization of someone who you thought so highly of slowly turned into everything you hate. I find it hard to carry the fact that people might one day look upon my picture and find that my little quirks, that were cute at once, slowly turns into the reason for the disgust in their stomach and a sickening feeling rising up their throat almost as if guilt had a body and it was slowly climbing out of them because it knows what has been done. I find it hard to carry that people can fall in and out of love so swift and nimble, that you cannot comprehend it until it has already occurred. I suppose you could say the biggest thing I carry is fear. 

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