Fuck what you say, just don’t hurt me no more.

It isn’t funny anymore: how I let go of people so easily. Increasingly I’ve realised that it doesn’t hurt me to let go of people close to me. A little while back, I’d decided to completely shut myself to feeling or letting anyone in at all because I don’t like the fact that it’s become easy for me to let go. But I let my guards down a little for someone who made it worthwhile to let my guards down, not knowing that instead of letting in one person, I’d let in two.
Life has been off track in the recent past. I feel vulnerable & I don’t like feeling vulnerable. I don’t like it when people know me. I don’t like it when they reach out to me. I don’t like being close. I don’t like the human touch people so pine for. I feel safer in my cocoon, my web of bullshit and deceit. Most of all, I don’t like letting go.
The past hurts and wounds are a constant reminder of the fact that opening up to someone, giving them the right to hurt me is never going to pay off well. I don’t want sunshine. Neither do I want to be anyone’s sunshine, as long as my night sky has stars enough to let me see things I want to see and hide things I don’t want to, in darkness. I don’t want to pull out people of their misery.
Fuck their misery. I can hardly pull myself out this cesspool.
What I do realise about this phenomenon is that slowly, I’m becoming numb. Numb to feeling any sort of emotion when they leave.
But fuck that. That is how it should be. Why should I let people in when they have to fucking walk out. Sure I push people away. But fuck you, people who want to stay come back too.
I know I’m going to break down sooner or later. I know I’m letting this get to me more than I should. It’s just a matter of time till I completely close myself to everyone and everything. Ease back into the negative space which harbours my inhibitions & defences and does a fucking good job of reminding me why I shouldn’t let anyone lie beside me on the floor.
People don’t deserve shit from anyone. Neither do you, nor do I.
No love by Eminem fills every pore, absorbing me wholly. I remember how much I’d grown to love this song last year. Everything I’ve ever wanted to say set into a fucking song. All the pain let out with one simple cut. All the anger vent out in the form of words that summon an intense hatred.
Fuck you & your words that don’t mean shit. Fuck all those times you promised to never let go. Fuck those nights you were beside me: they don’t mean a fucking thing. Fuck all those nights I cried myself to sleep. Fuck every wound I wear as your parting gift. Fuck the air that still holds your essence.
Fuck your words cause you never meant them. Fuck your promises. Fuck your pretentious tears. Fuck you for scarring me for the rest of my life. Fuck you cause I’m going to forget you soon. Fuck you cause you don’t mean shit to me anymore. Fuck the rains. Fuck knowing you exist. Fuck this hurt. Fuck this cesspool. I’m tired. I’m sick. And I’m letting go.
Fuck you for saying you understand me. Fuck you for all your false promises & hopes.
Fuck you because I don’t need you anymore.

Tuned incessantly into: No love by Eminem ft Weezy.🎶

Of bloodless rains..

This was wrong. Everything was wrong. The bed? It didn’t smell like hers. And she couldn’t remember why. Things spun out of her frontal lobe and her memory failed her.

“Goddamn”.

And then it all came back to her when she saw him.

It rained yesterday. Did they have rain sex?

She wouldn’t know, would she? But then again, she did.

He and his mother had another brawl again last night. A huge one this time. What the hell was she doing there in his house? She left him over a year ago! She just cannot walk in and out of his life as if in a theme park man?! What the fuck?!

So his mother noticed everyone but not her own daughter she had always neglected? What kind of a mother was she? Did she feel the need to sleep with yet another man after a divorce and a re marriage?

 “His temper”, she reminisced with a little smile. “Always gets the best of him”.

It was still raining when he came back. He was fucking angry and she knew it. He punched the wall, feeling utterly angry, disgusted and sick at the same time.

“It’s okay! It’s okay baby, it’s okay.” She held his face in her hands and made him look at her. She kept telling him that it was okay.

Anger turned into passion soon and he kissed her, pulling her close to him. He kissed her feeling angry and hurt at the same time. He hated everything and he kissed her in hate. He hated his mother, his father, his sister and he hated her the most. But he kissed her and she kissed him back.

Anger took it’s physical form and what they did not make love that night because it was imperative in the absurdest sense & seemed fitting. They made love bearing  pain, anger, sadness, resentment and hatred in heart. Time ceased to exist as a dimension in their world and they endlessly lost themselves to each other .

She saw him standing there, his hair messed up, torn jeans and over sized tee that did nothing to show off his toned abs with his car keys in his hand. And he looked at her the way he always did, the way she last remembered seeing him before he left her. He didn’t smile, no & he wasn’t condescending. But she knew that look.

“It’s been a year”, he said.

“And I still can’t forget you”, she said, reciting the line verbatum from the conversation she thought she would have with him if such a thing ever happened. 

As she put on her white tee and denim shorts with the rain pouring outside her blood rusted window, she reminded herself to buy fresh lillies for his grave.