I would walk now and think it raw and deeply
What made me really that attracted, mesmerized?
It's all in parts - partly because you cared for me
Not exactly how a nurse cares for a patient, even though you were in med school.
Certainly that helped, certainly wasn't nearly all of it.
No, you cared deeply for me, more deeply than I think it now even.
And I loved that. I loved that you'd actually fish out my thoughts
In all those moments when I fought to keep them inside.
I loved your passion, even though I didn't have one for myself at the moment.
Loved how you loved to study and to explain what you learnt.
Loved how that in itself was the main drive for my own studying.
I've got to do research in my fields of interest now because of that, you know?
So what did you even love about me? Certainly not how stuck I was.
How inside my mind, how difficult to express myself I was.
How I had to force myself to show love, to show care, to even show lust
Even though I felt all of them, so much so that I would get palps from them, man..
Maybe you liked the fact that despite it all, I tried? While doing my best to also better myself.
Maybe that. Maybe also the fact that I did show genuine interest in your passions?
Because I did..
And certainly not because I'd laugh as a stress response sometimes when we kissed. I hated that in myself.
My face, my hair? Got to admit I do look ok though. But you always looked at least ten times better.
You were, most probably still are the hottest even the sun ever witnessed.
But not even that says it all. You were the physical form of all forms of beauty.
Sapiosexuals wouldn't have been able to get you out of their minds.
Regular folks like me? The fact that despite it all, I still obsess over you after so many years is a strong point.
And even so. What were you seeing in me?
Definitely not enough, eventually you got fed up with the things I wasn't quite getting right.
Like showing love without it feeling like labour to you.
Like lying and pretending I remember stuff so you wouldn't get mad that I didn't.
Like finding all the explanations for why I wasn't quite showing lust, any other explanation than the real one: my emotional circuitry was fucked from all the anxiety and depression. And don't forget the meds.
Then what, Carmen?
What did you even see in me? The way one day I could be all that you wanted me to?
Because hell yeah then, I am right here now. No anxiety. Better communicator. With a path of my own. With passions that radiate from me. With powerful expressions that don't stumble on their way out.
Better with emotions, better with lust. With affection. More pragmatic. More understanding.
No brain fog.
No lying.
No masking for my beloveds.
No pretending.
No holding back, unless it's about bad feelings and anger.
Calculated, smarter, more intelligent. With my own niches and wishes. Preferences exposed. Disposed of all the hold backs. Taking risks.
Only one I'm still afraid of taking: making it so we meet again. Organically.
Without your perspective here, how could I even? For all I know you could still be in that relationship, happy and on a clear path, romantically.
And I know, the me I became, the me I finally did become, the one I visioned all this time ago, the one I even forgot I wished to be ever since I first thought it after you broke up with me. I am him now. And I'm becoming more by the day. You'd fall in love even more. And it would be even more successful.
And it will probably never happen. Not hiding it anymore. It hurts. My wants, my wishes, for you. They hurt, they invade. They rot me sometimes, and I have to get rid of my surface so I can let skin grow anew, from the flesh you're still exposing in me even 5 years later, Carmen. Even without the slightest presence, only the one in my mind being the exception.
Six girlfriends before you Carmen, and two after you, and still you're the one. The one that has more and more and more quality influence over me. Do you even know I am on my fucking starting path to become a researcher, Carmen? Because of you, ultimately. Well, partly. The other part is the best professor I've ever had, but you take up more than her in terms of who's at fault, such a beautiful fault.
And such beautiful memories of you flood my mind so many times. And such beautiful music you showed me, and such beautiful notes you wrote me. I don't have them anymore, but I remember them vividly, how they made me feel. What they smelled like. What you smelled like. I still sense your perfume from time to time, and I spiral again. I wanna cry again. I wanna rip my chest apart again and give you my heart, even if you wouldn't want it. I wanna end me again, like how I tried after I lost you, because life didn't seem worth it anymore. Funny how the last cigarette with a friend saved me.
Funny how you save me now, even by hurting all over again.
Not so funny though. It's sad. I want you back, how a dying mouse wants freedom from the lab he gets experimented at.
Yeah, I do feel like a mouse at that. Like I'm being experimented on.
" How long can a guy support the anguish of never having true love again in his life, until he fucks everything again and loses what was good in his environment? Take notes and observe everyone, the testing continues!"
I wouldn't know the answer to that, despite it all, I still keep it together. Even when it gets so bad that I want somebody to run me over with 3 gigatons of deadly force, shot from their finger-guns at my chest. The place where all that you represents resides, hides and lobotomize. Emotionally, of course. All of it.
The same way I feel emotionally lobotomized every time I pass by your faculty. The chances of you seeing me are minuscule either way, but I'm not even taking that, the same way I don't put in lotto tickets. Yeah, the chances of winning are small, excruciatingly so. But they're there. You're there too. Maybe. I'll never know, until I do.
Just end me already yourself. Maybe that's the only way I can go to the other side at peace. Yeah, seems like that's about it.
Indeed, that's about it.
and then Add to home screen.