How much fucking kindness can one person take?
I've been feeling a little lot fucked up lately. (Sorry for the "language", but beware, there is probably plenty more to come in the coming days.)
Mr. Eyes is getting to me.
Getting right through the walls of fears and morality and jealousy and pain with nothing more than constant and persistent kindness and tenderness. I repeat all the "stay-away", "keep your distance" mantras to myself over and over again, trying to strengthen those walls. And still everytime I see him they get broken down a little more. I try to turn every kind comment into something deceitful even if it seems to bleed with truth. I try to find ulterior motives for every movement, every look, every degree of warmth. I spend my days trying to strengthen those walls so that they might hold up for a few moments at night when he looks at me and insists that he loves me no matter how many times I tell him that he does not.
And I want to scream at him for chipping away at those stupid walls. Because I don't trust him...why would I? There's no where good for it to go....and so I rebuild those walls all day long. I say my mantras over and over. I put on the defense...the sarcasm....the exasperation and hope that they will convince someone...Maybe even me. Or at the very least, that they will spackle the walls back together.
But I don't trust those walls either. They've already proven their instability and, in the end, I know I don't want them there. I don't want to be a person who is baracaded by fear and suspicion and the past. I only keep them around because they seem to be the only things that protect me. At least a little. At least for now.
Mr. Eyes is getting to me.
Getting right through the walls of fears and morality and jealousy and pain with nothing more than constant and persistent kindness and tenderness. I repeat all the "stay-away", "keep your distance" mantras to myself over and over again, trying to strengthen those walls. And still everytime I see him they get broken down a little more. I try to turn every kind comment into something deceitful even if it seems to bleed with truth. I try to find ulterior motives for every movement, every look, every degree of warmth. I spend my days trying to strengthen those walls so that they might hold up for a few moments at night when he looks at me and insists that he loves me no matter how many times I tell him that he does not.
And I want to scream at him for chipping away at those stupid walls. Because I don't trust him...why would I? There's no where good for it to go....and so I rebuild those walls all day long. I say my mantras over and over. I put on the defense...the sarcasm....the exasperation and hope that they will convince someone...Maybe even me. Or at the very least, that they will spackle the walls back together.
But I don't trust those walls either. They've already proven their instability and, in the end, I know I don't want them there. I don't want to be a person who is baracaded by fear and suspicion and the past. I only keep them around because they seem to be the only things that protect me. At least a little. At least for now.
Labels: That crap called life
Copyright 2005-2006 by Spells With...All rights reserved
Speak to me, 8 already did
8 Comments:
Oh dear. Um, can you move? Immediately????
Nope. No dice on moving. Not for about 2 years.
Be strong. Sounds like a bad situation. I know, I know, easier said than done.
Go talk w/ Mrs. Eyes. Tell her how much his handsomeness gets to you, how much he says he loves you. She'll probably lay into him so bad and he'll be so mad at you, that he won't be making any more overtures. Cause you know that if you get involved w/ Mr. Eyes, he's going to do to you what he's doing to her.
Jeanne...Strong? Uh....que es strong? :) But thanks.
Lisa...Yeah, there's no way that is happening. I honestly don't know if she speaks any English at all and trying to explain that and knowing that women ALWAYS blame the WOMAN. No way. Not a chance. It'a a total no win. In every possible scenario that I can concoct in my head. And trust me...the last part....is part one of the many mantras I recite in my head. Blah.
Just do an association of Mr. Eyes to somone you don't like. If you feel like kissing him think about howit would be like kissing that hated person, maybe a certain butz.. guy we both know. Best of all thinnk of him as a preditor.
Ok, I get it about Mrs. Eyes. But this morning I was thinking...what would A learn from all this (if it went ahead because of hormones and all)? Better even than thinking of him as a hated person...think maybe he's got the crotch rot to spread around. And some herpes sores in his mouth. (Can ya tell we're all on your side, but not on the side of getting it on w/ Mr. Eyes!).
You'll figure it out, girly. I have total faith in you.
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