No body is better….
In my hand, the object to my demise. Careful disguised as a luxury. Still kinda want it, even if I see it coming. ” Too much of anything is bad for you”. Words, only said, after you’re done being happy with it. I look forward to the experience, like a deep inhale. Never to stop breathing. Damaging parts of myself without regulation, regularly associating what was found, as my handy work. didn’t go deeper than pure speculation. How could I possibly, be the culprit, this is my home, let alone, without realizing it. Pain seemingly the product of action or inaction, outcome still the same. In my other hand, the object to my affection. Everything I ever wanted in life, detailed plans to reach my goals. Always mistakenly using the other, achieving the opposite effect, reversal of my role. Throwing myself down, while claiming to pick me up. Destroy everything around me, that’s how I show love.
Only when talking do I search, frantically scanning around for reactions. Reassurance, I’m acting right or I know people like what I’m saying. Careful chosen everything I say, slightly wrong reactions, throw’s future thoughts into dismay. As it turns out, I didn’t really want to cut my hair. Change my outfit, listen to you complain. Come home to find my food eaten. Go to the store, wait an extra 45 mins for you. The fact is I did. Now the one showing me is you, persistent questions, turn deep reflection. Not getting the chance to realize, I have a problem with this, alone slight aggravation. Imagine you asked me to come over, knowing I don’t feel well. At the house now, found you in bed and sick too. Asked me to take care of you, cook, clean, organized and prepared the food. Said you would do the same thing for me, if the tables were flipped, to my feelings don’t be rude.
Reality misconstrued. Turns out, to me you were being rude. Tables turns along with you. Not once, did you imagine having to take care of me. When I turned extra sick too. Called at least 5 times, to your voice mail, it never went through. More upset, that I even called, you made sure your distaste was heard. Doubting my sanity, to you, what I asked, absurd. How I found myself, so eager to shake anothers hand. Whatever object they put out, put the opposite hand. Opposites attract, fixated on what others want, played the part. No definition safe enough for my to dawn the “opposing force”. No self-respect worthy enough for me to fight for, when easy busied. Healing can’t possible by that traumatic. knowledge I get, when laughing looking back at it. Willingly let people show, how you should treat them too.
..read as “me” or “you”