You used to stand in awe of God,
now you question everything
you were ever taught he should mean to you.
You question yourself in a reflection that I
could never rehang on your bathroom door
or reassure with my emptiness
burning cigarette holes into your shaking hands.
I couldn’t bring myself to help
the newfound shortness of your breath.
I wanted you too badly, kept you too broken
by the slamming of a door you never had the strength to open.
use this like my first Tumblr. I thought I could avoid the day that I bled for 27 strangers like I used to for 2,000. I made this new one because my boyfriend was all over the old one, the old “me” and I thought I could bury her with the deletion of that blog. I don’t reblog things. I don’t write anything personal for this new blog, this conditional commitment that I use to browse through everyone else’s lives so I can avoid my own. Just like things, I said. Don’t reblog much, don’t post anything about yourself directly. But I can’t help it. Tonight I can feel myself letting go of him and it’s as much pain as it’s relief. I can’t just start over anymore. I am nothing of who I ever wanted to be and I am everything I tell myself I “used” to be. I hurt. I smoke too much, I sleep around and I don’t move forward anymore. And I don’t know why I want to confess this to 27 strangers. But I can’t not. So there’s a little piece of the cliche I live, on my own conditions and without any kind of commitment.
That awkward moment when you kiss a guy at the Met, totally fall for him but he doesn’t care whether or not you exist because, oops….you had sex with someone you didn’t know was his friend like…two days earlier.
That’s my life.