  This Terrible.... Love What are you supposed to do when you are this in love? I ask myself this, time and again, every since I met her. Every time I see her (which is painful) . Every time I touch her (which is never enough). Every time I think of her (which is every day). The every every-ness of how I feel for her is a hole I can't escape, and I wouldn't try.
At the bottom of this well is something special, I can tell. Like Alice, I can do nothing but keep falling, wondering if it will end. Unlike Alice, this is pain not curiosity. Nothing is curious about her. There are days I understand her to the fullest, and those are the days my heart breaks. There are days I wish I knew more, and those are the days I hate myself for not knowing.
There are days the satire of my love for her is painfully obvious, and I don't understand why I can live like this. And the second after my mind thinks that, I come back to why she makes me soar. I am that in love with her. Indescribable. I could try, but no one would understand. There is a vortex of irony folding in on itself and creating more.
Ever moving, changing, shifting. I don't know where I am. I don't want to know where I am as long as I am close to her. If she is far I can't live, I can't smile, I can't. I won't. I will not.
NO. Pain and smiles. The thorn on the rose. The smell of rain when it is sunny. Margaritas and a good mix. Coffee and cigarettes.
A kiss with a mean comment. A hug and tears. A torn down theater with the cobwebs of drama. This is purity at it's worst. Her tears are daggers. Her words are arrows.
Her laugh is Ambrosia. Her everything is my everything and no one sees why. She hurts me more than loves me. Ignores me more than hates me. Forgets me more than I remember her. There is no way to make her love me as much as I love her.
I cry for it. I pine for it. I want nothing else, if only I can have her feel this way and understand me. She looks at me, when I am taken by her. She does not understand the darkness in my eyes. She does not understand it does not have to be like this.
She cannot grasp what she does to me. And then...I think she does. I dread the thought of her knowing. If she knows, then she continues only to keep this pain in me. She does it to keep me. Why can't she see that I can be had in another way?
I want her. I'm not supposed to be like this. She was never meant to be mine, but I wish for it. She looks for things that cannot be. She wants the things more impossible than what I want. It must be so scary.
I want to take that away. I want to show her. I want to be something to her. To be that thing that makes her say, "It could be better like this. " But I am nothing. I am the last thought, the worn step on the ladder, which she forgets.
I am the boost that isn't needed, but relied on for no apparent reason. She makes me feel worthless. If I were anything... And what is sick is that I will remain restlessly satisfied with being worthless. Taken advantage of by your dreams. Manipulated by your salvation. Black mailed by the creature you worship.
And she doesn't mean to. She can't mean to. Maybe she doesn't know. Please say she doesn't know. My heart can't be broken any more than it already has. Shatters like a glass under a hammer.
And I keep her from cutting herself. She doesn't even know I'm broken. Everyone looks at me, like there is something wrong. I stay, I live, I deal with it. I bitch and I moan. I scream and I say I hate her.
But they know I am going back for more. I wait for her, knowing she will not come. I give to her, knowing she will not be thankful. I love her, knowing she will not love me. I hate her. I hate her.
I hate her. How can she not feel this? If I am this in love, why would the world build us so apart? Why would fate keep her from this? Why does destiny permit me to suffer alone? I don't' want to share my pain with her.
I want to end the pain by sharing her. I don't want her to myself; I just want what is good. Then they tell me I don't know what is good. If your heart hurts like mine, if it is poisoned by love like mine, then you know the good. If all you know if the darkness, you can define the light. It may never be mine.
Hurts so bad, hurts so good. Hurts and I come back for more. Evil. That is evil. It's not her fault. Not her.
Not her choice. I did this to myself. I deserve this. I want this, because it is all of her that I have. It could be better, it could be different, but this is what I have. I will not loose this for nothing.
I will not let this go. It is all I have. Why can't they see it? Can't they understand that I will fall apart if I cannot hate her for not making me love her? I love her on my own free will. It would be easier if it were because she is making me.
She never made me do a thing. I wish this were her fault. I can't make up my mind. I hate her, love her. She will never be mine and I'll always be hers. This is injustice at it's best.
This is all me, all for her. So, again, what are you supposed to do when you are this in love? Wait for the nothing. Look to the past. Live in the dream. Hurt.
Cut your heart from you, and throw it away. You cannot siphon this out, once a love like this is tainted by your own delusions. There is no way to purge this pain of blackness on your heart. Take it out! The only way you'll be free. The only way left.
Or you can wait for the nothing. The never ending well. Keep on falling Alice. Keep on screaming. This is not fun. This is terrifying.
This is hell. Cutting. Dark. Where am I? I do not care because I can close my eyes and see her face. Falling.
Round and round. No resolution. The snake will eat itself until nothing is left. Dizzy and sick of the taste. Swallow more, because that's all you can do. Bitter.
Bitter. So bitter you can make it taste like anything in your memory. Today, it's bitter, but yesterday you think it tasted like a cheesecake milk shake. DO NOTHING! It will all pass away. She can't live forever.
Neither can youat the rate you're falling. The heart will stop before you tear it out. This was written May 23rd, 2003. Its about Nat, my best friend, best torture. Whatever shes doing it, she does it well. That includes killing me.
I pulled this out of a Yahoo Groups archive, because I thought it should be here instead. 
