rott3nappl3s

christ-taped-to-crutches, am i ragging right now.

who am i kidding. i've been ragging and i'll keep on bleeding for a while.

i guess i'm a little co-dependant. seems strange for someone who hasn't been part of an actual official "relationship" for the better part of a decade. maybe it makes sense, though, the distance i try to keep from anyone, the scars upon scars i've self-stitched into my heart, the detachment from those who do or may love me in a desperate search for those who don't, the utter conviction to a woman who barely even talks to me, who's made me feel worse than anyone, and who solely justifies the human race through my warped lens.

it would explain why, in all my half-hearted attempts to stop this one from getting in, in all my insistence that once i invited them across the threshold they wouldn't like the house they found (there is this house, and this house eats other houses), that the garish colors of my design would not fit with her beige existence, it would explain that while i was terrified, more or less, that i wouldn't be able to say "i love you" to this one, i still could not shut the door. nothing to do, i'm sure, with compassion, and everything to do with the terror that i know i don't deserve this attention, that this one was trying to save her dead boyfriend through me, that this one would only put up with me not wanting to be like her for only so long.

terror from being abandoned. again.

(as if i haven't abandoned others in exactly the same way.)

but the rage in me - and there is always the rage, often personalized as a screaming child wrapped in a rug that i sometimes struggle to contain - it wants to attack. my claws are out *snkt* shiny shiny in the dark moonlight. post-scorning attacks are one of my weaknesses, an area in which i can say with total absolution that i am abusive; my ego cannot handle being told it isn't good enough for someone. the general subconscious idea seems to be that i want to give them a reason to not talk to me. always, i regret it, like i imagine a man who would hit a woman (or vice versa) might regret it after sobering up in the morning. but you can't take those hits back. not ever. it destroys any hope of warm illusory numbness, brings into stark focus what animals we truly are.

i don't think i crossed the line this time, even though this one might be the one i would want to work the hardest to keep away, since i've always felt that this one wanted me more as her best friend than her lover, not to mention this one's a total closet fag-hag who loves her gay way more than she could love a boring old breeder like me. i've said some rotten things, but nothing specific or cruel enough to warrant the thick hate i deservedly get from others in my past.

but i really want to say to this one, right now, want to text it to her, want to get a rise out of her, want her to know that tonight, i feel as if i made a huge mistake letting her into my life. that i knew she was kind of wishy-washy and severely damaged by several past events (the aforementioned dead-boyfriend, which has been ret-conned because she actually broke up with him shortly before he died, and thus, she blames herself - and being nearly raped and killed a guy, tried and couldn't get guy locked up, guy raped and killed another girl like a week later and then fled to mexico.)

i want to say it, but it isn't true. it's mean, useless, and will only serve to hurt her feelings while making her feel better for not having me around. i always said to her that i was leary of friendships between women and men, even though she is the gregarious type who has many friends of all sexes (another opposites-attract element to the show.) but i'll probably be able to count her as a friend, but only once i'm in love again.

so sad, then, that i do not fall in love easily