I am listening to “Tapes” by Alanis Morissette. Call it self-defeating or depressing but it perfectly describes how I feel about love and how it correlates to me. Here’s an excerpt:
“I am someone easy to leave
Even easier to forget
a voice, if inaccurate
Again: I’m the one they all run from
diatribes of clouded sun
someone help me find the pause button
All these tapes in my head swirl around
Keeping my vibe down
All these thoughts in my head aren’t my own
Wreaking havocI’m too exhausting to be loved
a volatile chemical
best to quarantine and cut off…”
Tears flow as I type this. I don’t want them to fall. I want to imprison them. Love does not deserve my tears. I have made myself sick from love. I’ve festered from it. The thought of it make me want to regurgitate. But I’m a masochist. I secretly ache for love’s acidic taste because I feel I can alter it. Traces are left behind that refuses to evacuate. I’ve stared at this page on and off for the last few weeks, trying to cage my thoughts. What have my thoughts rendered me but a broken heart, fragility and bitterness?
No. This is not a pity party. I don’t want sympathy or words of encouragement. It’s a cleansing. Liberation of sorts. Pardon me while I purge.
This is dedicated to the men I loved profusely. To the men I blatantly ignored. To the ones I used for sexual gratification. To the ones who used me. To the ones I could never love. To the ones who could never love me. This is dedicated to a man who stood at my door today pleading for my friendship after disrespecting it. This is dedicated to the men who conveniently disappeared after I resorted to celibacy. This is dedicated to the one who got away. This is dedicated to the one who fled. To the ones who fucked me in unorthodox ways and places. To the ones who made love to me.
I love you. I hate you. I’m sorry. Don’t leave me. Get out my face. Fuck me…slowly. Fuck me hard. Don’t bust a nut and leave. Read to me. Write me a poem. Play me a song. Teach me. Kiss me. Touch me. Your fingers make my skin crawl. Hold me. Tell me your deepest thoughts. Leave her for me. Loving you was a mistake. Make me feel like a woman I’ve never met. Leave me alone. Why are you stalking me? It was only one night. Get over it. I miss you. Stop calling me. Why haven’t you called me? Did you ever love me? I’m addicted to you. You make me sick. I smell you in my dreams. Why you couldn’t love me? Why did you marry her? Why was I last one to know? Forgive me. Forget about me. Fucking you was a mistake. I miss you inside of me.