I thought about editing this out again... but I suppose I'll leave it for now.
How much I hate myself.
I feel so much desire for you. But you'll have none of it. You let me in, let me feel for a moment, a month, mabe two the comforts of feeling the presence of someone else. But I was your comfort, never the other way around I guess. When you wanted me, I was there. But now, I'm discarded like trash. one of those things you don't need, don't want, don't have any feeling for. I've served my purpose, I've completed my tasks, and now you only worry about me because it kills me knowing these things. Only pay attention to me because I still have a few drops of use left to you.
And in that time what damage you've done to me. The anger I can only reserve for myself though. I let you do everything to me.
Tried to live life to make yours a little better, taking my greatest pleasure from each smile on your face. And maybe that's the greatest pain, I can only hate myself for this. You've only followed your own nature. You ask me why I still cared for you even though you hurt me so much?
How could I not? For I know that I'll never have this experience again and I wish to sop every last taste of it into my body before it's over. In the end all I ever wanted was a few moments a week, where I could truly relish the feelings I once had. A little bit of selfishness to balance me, a little contrast to compare against the loneliness.
but I'm being selfish, yes, I know. And in the end I can only hate myself for this. Because selfishness is my worst vice.
S
How much I hate myself.
I feel so much desire for you. But you'll have none of it. You let me in, let me feel for a moment, a month, mabe two the comforts of feeling the presence of someone else. But I was your comfort, never the other way around I guess. When you wanted me, I was there. But now, I'm discarded like trash. one of those things you don't need, don't want, don't have any feeling for. I've served my purpose, I've completed my tasks, and now you only worry about me because it kills me knowing these things. Only pay attention to me because I still have a few drops of use left to you.
And in that time what damage you've done to me. The anger I can only reserve for myself though. I let you do everything to me.
Tried to live life to make yours a little better, taking my greatest pleasure from each smile on your face. And maybe that's the greatest pain, I can only hate myself for this. You've only followed your own nature. You ask me why I still cared for you even though you hurt me so much?
How could I not? For I know that I'll never have this experience again and I wish to sop every last taste of it into my body before it's over. In the end all I ever wanted was a few moments a week, where I could truly relish the feelings I once had. A little bit of selfishness to balance me, a little contrast to compare against the loneliness.
but I'm being selfish, yes, I know. And in the end I can only hate myself for this. Because selfishness is my worst vice.
S
joyrider:
i used to think it was much harder to follow the tao and have the heart of a romantic. i am not so sure that this is true now. romantics feel deeply and are filled with a sense of wonder at all things - maybe that is not so different than enlightenment. 