I thought of him today. first time
in almost a year.
She asked me advice about him in an e-mail.
She said I was the only one who knew him as well as she did.
The computer screen before me I sat and typed and typed.
Before I knew it I had wrote pages about him.
Analyzed his life, his personality, everything,
EVERYTHING about him.
I was supposed to be helping her but it turned out
to be helping me.
I was looking for answers.
Answers to why he had to scar me, like slitting my wrists from attempted suicide.
Emotions that I had buried long ago started to rise from their graves.
The memories,
the screams, the tears, the fights,
fucking through all those forbidden nights.
Those eyes,
they could be so resentful, so hateful.
All the changes that had occured.
Drugs were a setback in my life.
They still are in his although they almost took his.
Would he still be alive if I was not there to hold up his head so that he could breath?
The abusive relationship of fuck after fuck
that I almost lost ALL of me before I got out has been moved on to others.
So I typed everything that I felt.........
The good, the bad, the horrible.
His possessiveness.
At one point we were not even together but hin his mind I BELONGED to him.
Maybe that's because his stepfather treated his mother that way, because his stepfather always beat the shit out of him.
He doesn't know how to control his own life so the only way he feels "POWERFUL" is by playing God with women's lives.
Fucking with my,
MY personal emotions.
Twisting them so tightly until I could barely breath, Suffocated by his arrogance.
So lost, he's drifting through life by attaching himself to other peoples'.
Two years have passed and yet ghosts of him still linger in my mind.
Sometimes I lay awake in bed, like I did so many times years ago, wondering if he's holding on. Is he alright? Has he spent the night in jail again?
But then I HATE him!
When I see him at the same scene, the same setting, I can't even stay in the same room as him because the urge builds up inside so strongly to just hit him and HIT him until my knuckles are bleeding and he's lying on the ground crying.
Crying how he made me cry and suffer so many times.
I was so young, so DAMN naive, and time after time I didn't leave for as soon as those ice blue eyes would turn warm and stare into mine while a half-curved mouth would say
"Don't leave! Please don't leave! I need you!"
I would fall into his arms, into him,
Sinful sex...again and again and AGAIN!
Last fight ended with a FUCK YOU!
Now two years later and we still pass each other like strangers. Not a word spoken, not a glance.
The tears that used to flood my eyes are now frozen inside never falling, even as I sit here typing this.
Perhaps we are strangers, such different paths we both walked down.
But today, a computer screen before me,
I sit and type giving her advice about a "stranger" from two years ago who I still know inside and out.
[ 09 December 2001: Message edited by: 5FACES ]
in almost a year.
She asked me advice about him in an e-mail.
She said I was the only one who knew him as well as she did.
The computer screen before me I sat and typed and typed.
Before I knew it I had wrote pages about him.
Analyzed his life, his personality, everything,
EVERYTHING about him.
I was supposed to be helping her but it turned out
to be helping me.
I was looking for answers.
Answers to why he had to scar me, like slitting my wrists from attempted suicide.
Emotions that I had buried long ago started to rise from their graves.
The memories,
the screams, the tears, the fights,
fucking through all those forbidden nights.
Those eyes,
they could be so resentful, so hateful.
All the changes that had occured.
Drugs were a setback in my life.
They still are in his although they almost took his.
Would he still be alive if I was not there to hold up his head so that he could breath?
The abusive relationship of fuck after fuck
that I almost lost ALL of me before I got out has been moved on to others.
So I typed everything that I felt.........
The good, the bad, the horrible.
His possessiveness.
At one point we were not even together but hin his mind I BELONGED to him.
Maybe that's because his stepfather treated his mother that way, because his stepfather always beat the shit out of him.
He doesn't know how to control his own life so the only way he feels "POWERFUL" is by playing God with women's lives.
Fucking with my,
MY personal emotions.
Twisting them so tightly until I could barely breath, Suffocated by his arrogance.
So lost, he's drifting through life by attaching himself to other peoples'.
Two years have passed and yet ghosts of him still linger in my mind.
Sometimes I lay awake in bed, like I did so many times years ago, wondering if he's holding on. Is he alright? Has he spent the night in jail again?
But then I HATE him!
When I see him at the same scene, the same setting, I can't even stay in the same room as him because the urge builds up inside so strongly to just hit him and HIT him until my knuckles are bleeding and he's lying on the ground crying.
Crying how he made me cry and suffer so many times.
I was so young, so DAMN naive, and time after time I didn't leave for as soon as those ice blue eyes would turn warm and stare into mine while a half-curved mouth would say
"Don't leave! Please don't leave! I need you!"
I would fall into his arms, into him,
Sinful sex...again and again and AGAIN!
Last fight ended with a FUCK YOU!
Now two years later and we still pass each other like strangers. Not a word spoken, not a glance.
The tears that used to flood my eyes are now frozen inside never falling, even as I sit here typing this.
Perhaps we are strangers, such different paths we both walked down.
But today, a computer screen before me,
I sit and type giving her advice about a "stranger" from two years ago who I still know inside and out.
[ 09 December 2001: Message edited by: 5FACES ]
