I’m an extremist. I’m a constant juxtaposition of a human being. Everything I do is a contradiction to everything I feel. You either mean everything to me, or nothing at all. And more often than not, your actions won’t be worthy of a reaction.
Don’t take this the wrong way. Don’t confuse detachment with a lack of care. I will still care for you. I will still answer your shadow calls, and pick you up, and listen to your cries until the clouds erase the moon’s reflection against your glistening cheeks, and the darkness eases your pain. Because I belong in that darkness - the hyperreality that exists beneath the light. I will show you unseen places and unfelt emotions. You will live in ways you never have. You might kiss me. I’ll kiss you back. You might tell me you love me. You love everything I lack.
But you will never live up to who you’re supposed to be; who I need you to be. You will never be enough. My emotions are real, but they’re ephemeral. Be sure not to hold onto this brief glimpse of truth, for it will be gone tomorrow. You won’t be able to hurt me, which is quite a confusing realization. This will be uncomfortably comforting. Refreshing. Addicting. Enslaving. You will never have to dolefully await the inevitable end, but you will forever crave a new beginning. You will spend the rest of your life searching for something that is already gone. Because to me, the present is nothing but the present. The beautiful impermanence of the present.
I don’t resent you for abducting my time. For leaching from my self assurance, my spontaneity, and adventure. I appreciate the memories, but I don’t miss them in the way that I want them back. I never do. You’re nothing but a moment - one that often brings me warmth, but not remorse. The rest of it escapes me, as I continue my journey through the night, and wait for the next sliver of moonshine to fall across the next damaged cheek, and burn those glossy eyes dry.