The Unspoken Confession

TW: sh topics/ obsession / trauma / etc

*Read at your own risk*

I love you but it’s more than that.

I want your approval. I want to make you happy. I want to support you.

I need to leave you alone. I need to let you be happy with your family.

I’m sorry that I can’t stop wanting something more. I’m sorry that every night I wish there was something I could change about this. I’m sorry that no matter what happens I’ll always want you to be there.

Your hair is fluffy and reminds me of your cozy, calm personality that I know I’ll always want to fall back on. 

Your voice reminds me every time that I can’t escape these feelings. I’m a stray dog who found the person at the wrong time but that’s not your fault. I’ll stay on the sidelines, knowing this is for the best and that I can never be your favorite.

I can’t be your favorite. But maybe in another life. Can I wish for that? Can I wish to be your boyfriend in a world where you never met him? 

Maybe in another life I’m a man, secure in my identity and you never met him so we could be together. That’s selfish but just for a second maybe I’m in your arms, listening to your sweet voice. Maybe just for a second I’m holding you close, whispering how much I love you while I brush the hair from your face.

Maybe in another life

Even as I’m writing this, I know that I can never show you this. I want you to know but you can’t.

I want to show you that you can be happy. To show you that you can be loved, not just sexually but on a true level. I want to show you that no matter what I’ll be here, I’ll do anything to make you happier in life even if I have to leave or die I don’t care.

For just a moment I want to be selfish. For just a moment I want to steal you away from everything and help you with whatever you want to do with yourself. I want to be someone who you never have to question my love for you. 

“Love”

It’s a word I hate to use and yet it seems so beautiful when I think of you. I can only explain this as love, the same word I had been convinced I’d never see the same again. Now, because of you, I will never see it the same again but as long as you’re happy then I don’t mind.

You could hate me. Hurt me. Tell me to leave you alone. I’ll go through whatever it takes to know that you’re doing okay. 

Why?

Maybe it was you listening? Or maybe it was your food? No, maybe it was how you would gently hear my cries for help and show your understanding, softly comforting me even when I’d try to push you away.

No. It wasn’t that.

I see how hard you’re trying to be the best you can for your son. I see the love between you and him. I see how even when you’re tired, you still want to be there. I see how you’re always trying your best even when you don’t want to, even when you’ve done enough, even when you’re scared. 

I feel like I’ve seen into your soul and fallen completely. I want to protect you from anymore pain, not because you can’t handle it- I know you can, you shouldn’t have to though. I don’t want to shelter you, I want to enable you to be exactly what you want. I want to help you get through things, you don’t deserve to go it alone. I want to take a bullet for you, not because I’m suicidal- because I know you haven’t had someone willing to step in front of you and take it instead of just watching on the sidelines.

I’ll be your shield. I’ll be whatever you need me to be.

For you, I’ll live. For you, I’ll become someone better. For you, I’ll try harder. For you, I’ll do anything because you deserve the world and every ounce of love I can give.

I know that I need to change but I didn’t care to.

“Why should I?” I thought, watching my mother get dragged down by her karma; watching myself drift further from who I am; watching my younger self get beat, yelled at, and mocked at every turn. “Why should I get better when I can’t think of a single reason why I’d ever be wanted on this planet.” 

“Lore” I laugh, remembering how scared I was feeling his hands wander my small innocent body. “Lore” I grin, knowing that if I could I’d probably take the first opportunity I could to end it all. “Lore” but I can’t feel anything behind me without feeling like the scared little girl who couldn’t speak when she desperately needed to. 

“I’m a horrible person” I pout, hoping you’ll take that and leave; hoping that you agree so I can accept it; hoping that maybe you’ll disagree and softly hold me and explain how I may not be perfect but there’s so much more to me than that. 

“I should just die” I finally say, knowing that you’ll disagree and worry; knowing that I’m probably the only person who thinks that right now; knowing that I can’t leave you alone here; knowing that even if it’s true, I can’t let myself leave without trying all the things I want to.

I miss you

How? We live in the same house. We hangout constantly. Yet the feeling remains.

I miss you so much it hurts, my bones ache, my stomach curls into a nauseous ball, my heart beats so fast I fear I might just have a heart attack.

I miss you in such an aching way that I can feel the longing in my bones and it echoes in a physically painful way as if my body can’t express itself in any other way.

Even now you lose sleep because of me. I love you so much and I’m so sorry that I do.

“I love you in a way that would concern a therapist and thrill a poet.” That’s the only way to describe it. The way my heart feels when we’re talking, the way my bones scream at me when you speak, the way my blood shakes with every movement.

Every second we spend together, every memory etched into my brain as if your presence is sacred and not to be taken advantage of. Anything forgotten is turned into guilt, sorrow that I can’t hold on to every word you’ve ever said to me.

I’d do anything to be able to walk side by side with you and yet I can’t.

I’d do anything you ask. I’d stop if you asked me to. I’d cut deeper if you asked me to. I’d carve your name into my arm or leg if you asked. I’d live if you asked me to. I’d kill myself if you asked me to.

But I know that you wouldn’t ask me to die, or cut deeper. 

You’d ask me to live longer, for you, even if it sounds selfish. So I will. I’ll live as long as I need to if that’s what you want, if that’s what you ask of me.

I’ll go through endless suffering, constant hatred, and even a lingering numbness if you ask.