A path torn in two.

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Imagine the feeling of knowing that in the eyes of the one person you truly love; you'll never be adequate enough. Just a little shy in this aspect or that one. Too much of this trait, or not enough of another. Everything in and of you, will always only ever amount to the smallest portion of him/her; and it's enough to make your heart wither almost to the point of dying. You try to tell yourself that things will progress. You push yourself towards swallowing that hurt, and trying to be what they want and need, but again you fall; you trip and stumble over all of your shortcomings in their eyes.. The things blocking you from experiencing them at their best. You trip over the things that you try most to tell yourself it's okay to have. A sense of sensitivity, both inside of you and for the people you meet. Fears, and past mistakes. The things you push behind you so you dont have to hurt anymore become so painfully thrust infront of you once again; as if to mock you for trying to be happy. Trying to love again. Trying to be the source of someone elses happiness. You devote every waking moment to becoming that better you, only to have another door shut in your face, but again... You bottle it down deep; and press a cork into the spout. Imagine, screaming inside of yourself, pushing so hard; and desperately hoping for a stream of tears to fall only to have nothing form in the tiny holes beneath your eyes. Can you even imagine losing the ability to cry? Can you actually understand the non ability to release emotion.. to suppress all that ails and cuts you emotionally. Destroying yourself and potentially harming the ones you love? It festers inside of you like a carnivorous leech; feeding off of the pain and the view of negative self worth that you feel towards yourself. You begin to think that if you arent good enough for them, what and who are you good for? Will you ever amount to anything? Could you? You start to question the value of life itself, weighed against all of the pain; or rather numbness you now feel. Can you Imagine love, and the art of rejection? Can you imagine loving someone with every fiber that is in your being, straight down to your soul? Fathom the feeling of inadequacy, the feeling of "I'll never amount to this or that" or "maybe I'm not really worth the trouble." Your heart constricts so tightly against itself that it scrapes against all of the barricades you've set around it and lashes begin to form upon it. A cut here from your insecurities. A puncture there for your shyness. Bruising across the way for you never really knowing when to speak your mind, and tiny dribbles of blood trickling down from the holes; left by the times you went too far with your temper. You try and try to justify yourself. "They were in the Wrong!, I'm fine. They're the reason this didnt work."; but deep down inside of you, you know that you're truly the one to blame. Why couldn't you have been this, or that. Why can't you be what they want and need? Why does this hurt so bad? You're left praying to God, whatever one you believe in, begging for him to take your feelings away; and then.. He does, and you're left empty and broken. Unable to explain why your depression is so bad, you cant give someone a viable reason for why your heart is so damaged, and when they look at you as a freak; or something of lesser value it hurts. It stings to see that people dont get you. You've become a puzzle. Something people want and feel the obligation to fix. Someones emotional entertainment, a play thing. When you love someone so much, to the point of a willingness to put their life ahead of yours; and you've become only slightly less than inadequate; you feel as if you shouldn't be alive at all. You've failed them; and they were the most important thing to you. What other mistake in life could amount to that? Rejection, well, It's a lot like that. I'm not perfect, but here's another word from the broken hearted youth that surround you.

Created: Feb 24, 2014

Tags: satire, love, insecurities, story, heartbreak, poetry, theme

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