Smoke

Tears down my face, lost over you again. It's been a short time, but there's been so much between us. So much passion, so much love, sometimes so much hate. It's crazy isn't it? We're both a little crazy. We're both a little fucked up. We can't live with each other, but can't live without each other. Another argument. Over what again? You're going to leave. Should you leave? Should I leave? Is this beautiful or has it lost its beauty?

Choke on my tears. Feels like I'm going to be sick. Reach for the pack of Marlboro. Close our conversation. Deliberate what to wear. It's freezing. Wear just your jumper and leopard print slippers anyway. Cold doesn't bother me, not when I'm warm from the burning flame of passion that binds us together, that's fuelled and encouraged by the bitter arguments over nothing. Your jumper, the one with "Computer Science" on. That's what I love about you, you're like the other half of me. If this were my jumper it'd have "Modern Languages" inscribed on it. Every time we have to work out a restaurant bill, you're there, Mr Arithmetic.

We've been driven apart by stuff. I'm not allowed to explicitly say what stuff so I will attempt to equivocate it to get it off my chest and stop this goddam demon dominating every inch of my conscience and soul. The cheating, the possession, the jealousy. I'm secure. Why do you try and knock my security? You're supposed to cement it, build on it, build yourself on it, build your own security. Instead you try and knock me down and pass it off as it's because you love me. Well, guess what, I hate your exes for making you who you are, and the narcissist in me hates you for punishing me for their mistakes. You say things, they're inconsiderate, do you realise the stress sometimes? You give me a flower, then moan about the flower you've given me, try and get me to stomp on it.

It's difficult now, isn't it? My, what used to be clear blue skies and sunshine has now been plagued by a storm of misfortune and distrust. We have been smitten by our own pasts. I'm depressed, I'm cynical, I'm moody, it pushes you away, you control, you get jealous, you cheat and that pushes me away. What are we to do? What are we to do? Our future is so bleak. So bleak.

I still worry you're speaking to somebody better, somebody a bit taller, somebody with less spots, who watches that anime you like, who plays more video games than me. I suck. I don't know why you're with me sometimes. Do I ever please you? Think about it.

But still here I am in your comfy university jumper, cigarette in hand. I stare to the stars that shine brightly tonight. 3% are stars, you say, the rest are satellites. Doesn't bother me as long as they're pretty. Pretty shallow of me, I guess.

Such a big, big world out there. I'm only 5"1. Problems are so small and insignificant, but yet once again I find myself sobbing and alone in freezing weather that matches the broken heart that inhabits this body. The passionate flame melts it but the ice cold blast of the arguments freeze it again and I constantly find myself hurting and being pleasured at the same time, because being with you hurts my brain, my heart and it tests my durability as a person and a lover. Purgatory is the only word I know. I'm stuck here. I'm torn. When will this get easier? Are relationships always this hard? I've only ever had a few, I have basically no experience in this area. I need help. I need assistance, but once a-goddam-gain nobody is there for me.

Come to the end of your smoke. It wasn't enough. When it's pain like this, do cigarettes ever truly suffice?