Grasping

Why are we so fucked up?

You and I… me and you… us… whatever the hell we are.

The cycle is getting exhausting- constantly denying the fact that we have feelings at all, while using each other to fuck away the pain of past loves that we are completely aware exists.

I want to be done.

I want to be done, because I am smart enough to know when I am doing something stupid. Despite the unloyalty and pain she has caused you, you still need a pick-me-up anytime she screws you over again and- hey, that’s what I’m here for, right? I could never be satisfied with second place, yet I accept it time and time again.

I want us.

I often wonder what things would be like if we were… together- if I was your first choice and your only choice. Part of me thinks that it would be good for the both of us. You know me in a way that no one else has ever known me and although I am the furthest thing from perfect, I know I can make you smile. It’s all a beautiful idea, though incredibly unrealistic, as you’re not that smart and I’m not that optimistic.

I want the comfort that whatever we have brings me.

Most days, I simply find comfort in us- two lost souls grasping on to the very thing that we are trying to avoid most, grasping on to all of the hope we have lost along the way, grasping for air, grasping on to each other…  We can hurt each other without being toxic to each other and I find unbelievable comfort in that.

I don’t know where we’re going- in fact, I’m not even sure how we got here, but I’m glad we did.