*editor’s note: sometimes i write little streams of consciousness to get things out. this is one of those. you have been warned
sometimes it needs to be by BRH-M
it stings to give yourself and your energy to someone for so long. you reach out and be supportive, and enjoy times and laughs and inside jokes. you share tears and fears and a sick love of 80′s songs and you say always you can count on me.
it hurts when life changes and the place stays the same and the people you knew fade and i don’t want to bother and pest…i tried my best…
no one can call or drink coffee and everyone is too busy to return a hello how are you…
it hurts when those closest to you shut out and shut up and shut in and forget…
must have been a cold summer…
it hurts more when you reach out to them when they hurt and they shut you out harder…you grasp at the shards as they let go and you know…
it’s not about me…
it hurts more the more you know…and it hurts more than you were prepared to handle…and out of left field you find that you feel a little abandoned…
it hurts b/c you care as you stare and see them hurting and buried and you want to dig (hold on i lost the shovel)… you watch them struggle and want nothing more than to listen and try to understand and you watch them open up the same to other people and the pain is like glass in the eye or a kick in the crotch…
and it hurts b/c you know it isn’t always about you.
and you get angry b/c sometimes you need it to be.
b/c it isn’t about me…
it hurts to know you can’t be trusted enough to be counted on even when you have proven that you could be or would be and should be but it’s not enough…
but it’s not about me. it’s not about me…it’s not about me…
but sometimes i need it to be.
sometimes something happens out of knowhere and nowhere and it blows the cap off of your skull and leaves all those memories exposed…and you reel and cry and can’t figure out why it makes you feel after so long but it does and you die… a little…and all you want is to share it w/ someone who gets it but they don’t get it b/c they aren’t there…and they aren’t their…
but you know they are hurting and you try and try and try to reach out and are shut off at every pass…
and you cry and you die…a little each time…
but it’s not about me. it’s not about me…it’s not about me it’s not about me it’s not about me…
but sometimes it needs to be
