meses

Six months ago I was here, inhabiting the same bone and body.  I slinked onto wooden benches and straightened my spine upon seat.




Six months ago I was alone.  Sort of.  I walked into a cafe, not knowing any better, only knowing that I had to.  Six months ago--was I happier?


You're so amicable.  Sweet-natured, earnest.  Earnest, that really is the word for you.  You started a conversation and I--how many times can I rephrase and reword and relive those moments of savor?  Do they echo for you?  They mold for me and become malleable in my hands.  


I can't change you and I can't pretend to stay happy.  I can remember happiness and try and grasp at it, but it is not the same as yours, which is genuine.  If I was half, you would be whole.  I'm sure of it.


By default you make me feel that I dwell in unhappiness.  It's not your fault, really.  But by being the effing ray of sunshine you are, I am a huddled mask undercovers, whining and weeping.  I realize I am no longer that stronghold I once was.  Dare I become and utter the word "dependent."  Oh you.  How do I stay with you when my mind stretches to thoughts of ending?  I can't stretch you thin without saying goodbye.  


Do I want to end this?  Am I sabotaging for greater good?  For any good?  Who am I saving?  I deserve happiness.  I want it, like everyone wants peace.  But unsettled.  How do I break this to you without breaking your heart?  How do I do this without breaking my own?  Is this not right or is this so right that I have no right to walk away from it?


I don't know.  I just know that these oscillations are driving me crazy.  I feel for you and I feel daunted and complicated.  You say I am difficult and I must agree.  How do I do this.  How do I fix this.  How do I not disappoint both me and you.  How do I make this something not lost--by either being content or by losing it without remorse?


I don't know why this is occurring.  I don't know how to make it stop.  I hope it works for the best.  I hope it quells. Really I do.