I’m tired of going snap a mouse trap surrounding the room with no gaps to maneuver around them. One false move and they’re all sent flying shut the words infused in the metal wires clamping down to shoot the sting beneath skin and cause words of anger and pain to come flying back at me like poisoned darts. There are booby traps all over this metaphor of booby traps.
No commas or pauses just continuous flow of lexemes (lovely word for word don’t you think?) as they enter circulate from mind to neck to shoulders down arms through fingers onto keyboard onto text that doesn’t appear fast enough for the torrent that just keeps on coming. Make no sense? Of course not. Nothing makes any sense until you stop untangle put together all nice and proper follow the rules set to make sense of a mind that truly has none at all in its most primitive form. They call you insane if you don’t follow those rules. I’ve been calling myself insane all my life but I’m as far from a rebel as this galaxy is from the next. Light years and light years but like the scientists of astronomy and studiers and explorers of space I want to get there even though the chances are one in those billions of light years. But hey at least there’s that one.
Where was I? Oh yes booby traps of vicious cycles that loop the loop and no one knows how to stop it because I started it and I don’t know either. I think the only way is to clamp my jaws shut with the intensity of one going through an epileptic seizure swallow down rage that really has no reason to be there in the first place so what am I doing who am I becoming what’s going on and why am I losing control I’ve fought so hard so many years to gain? No that work will not be in vain. I will get it back because it can’t go on like this I can’t be victim and perpetrator all at once I don’t want to be either so why are they opposites can there only be those two options do it or get it done to you? Then I’d rather be victim to be honest since I’m no good with guilt but I’m pretty good at handling pain. It’s unhealthy but hey it works doesn’t it except for times like these when domination over my own human nature gets a bit too difficult to obtain. It’ll happen it’ll happen I just need more time. Till then I’m sorry be patient thank you for putting up with me so long I’ll learn I promise I’ll learn to stop being such a bitch when it gets too much. I’ll expand the container feelings like that are kept in and redesign the lid so it’s much more airtight and lasts far longer I promise. I’m really really sorry I don’t mean it or rather I do but you were never supposed to know that or rather I don’t really it simply seems to be enhanced making me worse than the situation entails whatever the situation that happens to trigger me at the time is. I’m sorry.
I’m always sorry and I always mean it and you’d think I’d get tired of feeling so reprehensible but I seem to feel the need to beg pardon for every consequence of my existence and every breath that robs someone else of oxygen because it went into me instead. Breathe I’m sorry Breathe I’m sorry Breathe I’m so sorry I can’t help it. I’m too scared to die because I know exactly where I’m headed. Purgatory. Funny thing is while I know I’ll scream in agony that I also know I’ll still feel deserving of every lick of flame because this guilt in this life my life is so great there is no doubt it will carry with my soul when my heart stops beating.
I’m sorry for being like this I’m sorry for being like this I’m sorry for being me and if I could put that word in front of every other stupid word in this fucked up post without making it sound even more fucked up and hard to read I swear I would but please know my heart is making all the apologies all the time with every pulse every rush of blood through my undeserving veins arteries and capillaries.
(I don’t like who I am when I’m with you.)
You bring out the some of the crappiest parts of me and worst of all I can’t seem to help it when I’m around you which makes you resent me all the more because with anyone else it’s easy to bite back instead of fight back. I’m sorry for that I know it isn’t fair I really do know. I’m trying. I’ll try harder I promise.
(I don’t like who I am ever.)