Status: probably adding forever or until I fix myself
Pages Where I Can Scream
Hoover's Damned
I don't want him to know what a horrible excuse of a human being I am and we compliment each other every day about how "put together" we seem and I can't help but wonder if it cracks inside him like it does for me, a prideful, validating and indulgent secret where he can tell himself that there's enough cement holding him together to appear functional.
A human of solid construction.
Nice. And he's such a nice guy, there are no nice guys for people like me because safety does not come with my blueprints- and that's not self-angst it's recognition to my own flaws and weak structural points. It's hard being so harsh, harsh to be hard, like the weight of 6.6 million tons resting on poor maintenance and "getting through the day", and I'm scared that our little "make your day" notes will one day turn into me spilling out with enough force to completely destroy this beautiful, steady thing he's been dirtying his hands trying to make while I stain my hands with Expo marker from crumpled receipts just trying to maintain: shoddy patching crashing forwards through the sticky note I wrote for him that was supposed to sound grateful and sweet and "doing great, making it work as per the usual"- like we always do- but now all the ink is smeared, and it's not fit for him to read.
Not like I don't always try. But I don't know how much more gas I have in the engine for that, or if I'd might have too much xanax in my system one night to keep myself from dumping all over him.
This nice, safety-association-approved human interaction.
Sincere, at least seemingly from my view on him. I hope my words are enough to be sincere enough back, or even the ones I hold back while I think of words to hold up the dam, and I wonder what an honest and kind girl would say to a boy that seems so honest and kind, himself.
But even concrete's not forever, and I know that I can't hold it up.
Unsafe.
It's keepoutofthewaterandclearthevalleytowns-unsafe.
And it is very selfish of me to let him swim at all
-"the first note of many to come"
A human of solid construction.
Nice. And he's such a nice guy, there are no nice guys for people like me because safety does not come with my blueprints- and that's not self-angst it's recognition to my own flaws and weak structural points. It's hard being so harsh, harsh to be hard, like the weight of 6.6 million tons resting on poor maintenance and "getting through the day", and I'm scared that our little "make your day" notes will one day turn into me spilling out with enough force to completely destroy this beautiful, steady thing he's been dirtying his hands trying to make while I stain my hands with Expo marker from crumpled receipts just trying to maintain: shoddy patching crashing forwards through the sticky note I wrote for him that was supposed to sound grateful and sweet and "doing great, making it work as per the usual"- like we always do- but now all the ink is smeared, and it's not fit for him to read.
Not like I don't always try. But I don't know how much more gas I have in the engine for that, or if I'd might have too much xanax in my system one night to keep myself from dumping all over him.
This nice, safety-association-approved human interaction.
Sincere, at least seemingly from my view on him. I hope my words are enough to be sincere enough back, or even the ones I hold back while I think of words to hold up the dam, and I wonder what an honest and kind girl would say to a boy that seems so honest and kind, himself.
But even concrete's not forever, and I know that I can't hold it up.
Unsafe.
It's keepoutofthewaterandclearthevalleytowns-unsafe.
And it is very selfish of me to let him swim at all
-"the first note of many to come"
♠ ♠ ♠
-"the first note of many to come"