An Open Letter

This is gonna be weird I think. We had a brunch today that turned into the pool and turned into a weird fan sat on the carpet and talked for a while. One on a walk and then we think I talk to you and escalate a little bit I guess I.

I’ve moved the phone closer to my mouth so it’s easier for me to edit what I’m saying but I’m going to just leave that there. I find that I have a lot of feelings and I don’t necessarily like them. One is the jealousy and the feeling like I was being negged by a friend who was somewhat flirting with her. And I told myself that that’s fine because if she is interested in that then that’s completely OK and she can go with him because I wouldn’t want a partner that would choose someone else over me. And I worry a little bit because I think that I am unfair with what I’m saying if I’m penalizing her for this, because she was kind of just going along with the flow and in a new social situation with people she doesn’t really know and she didn’t really have too many options and I know that the friend that I’m talking about is very social. So I guess I’m kind of mad at him but I also didn’t tell him anything so I’m just fucking mad I’ll be honest. And I don’t have anyone reasonable to point that anger towards.

Also things went faster than I had hoped and to be completely honest more because it was faster than she had hoped. I went to lash out now because no one is meant to read this and also because when I talked with her I followed the principles of NVC was not defensive. I feel like I sometimes get punished because of how much she likes me, and it’s something that I fully know that I’m being hypocritical about, but how am I not supposed to want to kiss her if she pushes her face right up to mine and stares into my eyes? And I fully know that I’m being a hypocrite but when I get all these signals to go faster and to go ahead, and I do, and then it’s actually too fast it be feeling frustrated and confused and anxious about the entire situation just ending because of that. It feels like I get told it’s OK to say something, I say that something and then it’s not OK. I guess I just don’t like this uncertainty and I find that I just fucking hate uncertainty overall.

And I just feel fucking full of this anger that’s really just sadness and frustration mixed together. I’ve been playing a lot of music recently because I can at least use six strings as my vocal cords. I sometimes don’t like it when she stares so deeply into my eyes because I can sometimes see my reflection or become aware of the fact that she is looking at me especially so closely and I just like looking at myself like that. I think I must look awkward and I must look shy and like this person that’s not me just know who I should look like. I still have that fear built into me about looking and just coming off as someone that people don’t like and aren’t into and so when this beautiful girl that is amazing and hit so many of my criteria tells me that she finds me beautiful and that she just catches herself looking at me and she has to pull back from doing things and same things what the fuck am I supposed to think. And it feels so obvious that I’m just supposed to believe what she’s saying, but how am I supposed to go against every other experience that I feel like I’ve had in my life. My face and my voice are two things that I’ve made willing concessions towards. And I can look and listen at myself without feeling disgust which I’m incredibly thankful for because I used to feel that way. But I just wanna break down crying and not in a fucking good way. I’ve written about this so many times, but I have the scars on my face and my parents would tell me about how people would think I’m sickly, or diseased and they wouldn’t want to interact with me. And recently stupid fucking insurance decided that I don’t even need the medication, and they’ve denied it. And I just don’t understand why someone could find me beautiful like that. And it feels like at my core person there is this sadness that just sits there and festers and the most I can do is cull the rot. But the seed is always just there right next to whoever I fucking see myself as.

I thought about it and I don’t know suicide isn’t intrusive thought because it never intrudes, I’d rather just speak up from whatever crevice of my mind it makes home. And it quietly talks, and that’s not something I’m used to if I’m being honest right now. I just get exhausted from it all and I just wanna cry and I wanna ball up into the child me that isn’t going to get helped by anyone. And sometimes I just wish that it wasn’t the case I guess. And I feel like it just feels so right to hate myself and to fill myself with this much self-loathing. It feels like so many other people don’t have to fight this hard to be loved or to make themselves someone worth loving or deserving of it. And as much as I can parrot the idea because I know it is technically right, I don’t think that everyone just gets in love or deserves love. And I solely mean that because of myself, because I don’t want to think about the fact that maybe I do deserve love and I just don’t get it in the ways that I wish I did. And I could really just fucking use a hug sometimes. And I wish that I could just have someone I could share these fucking thoughts to if I’m being honest, and it feels like I don’t know if it’s because I’m afraid of being a burden or just because I’ve never had the fortune some natural outlet for this. But I just wish I was loved. And it’s a dangerous thing that I’m indulging in right now, but I sometimes do think about if I kill myself, if suddenly stars would align for the person that’s no longer there. Like maybe I would receive the love that everyone says is so fucking abundant. And I think I mourn it so much because I see myself a little bit every time I hear about it. And I want to decorate it and I want to show it and I want to write about it and I want to sing about it and play it and anything I can do to just beg and show that I could use a hug sometimes. And I wish that I could just have someone peer right into my soul and hold me with those gentle hands that I only find in stupid poems or whatever the modern equivalent of that is. And maybe the second best thing to that is sun on a warm day, or maybe it’s this warm shower, or the centralized heat from the heater on my bathroom floor. I wish I didn’t have to settle for a second best. I wish I had I wish I had I wish