Pieces of Myself

I give pieces of myself, rather than the whole of my being; most often to the beggar to whom I can feel both sympathy and superior. Like spare change to the homeless man on the street. Close enough to provide temporary charity, but distant enough to ensure I’ve not really changed their life, or my own.

I’m not selfish, but obsessively careful. Careful to remain detached, not from those less fortunate, but to those who I know deserve my whole. I hold on to the needy, rather than embrace the worthy.

I am careful (despite how others view me), and I have moments of recklessness, which have blown up in my face. Yet the small indiscretions have had the biggest impacts on my life. They seem so insignificant when compared to the reckless acts committed by others, yet so profound were their consequences, My center, my core and my confidence is shaken, has been and probably always will. So I retreat into an even more careful existence, in a completely vain and misguided desire to remain safe. The only problem with this plan is that I’ve failed to realize that I am punishing myself when I actually should feel that depth-ness of true love.

My desire to feel safe results in my return into the familiar, rather than real security. How do I know this? Ask yourself; have you ever felt lonelier than you do in a room with a person who professes their eternal love for you? It feels alone, though your being told you will never be alone…….You want the pain and punishment afterward. The screaming, crying, shame or anything else that will come when the sun rises. I am not use to comfort, but what I am use to its its alternative.

It’s not the escape that everyone believes is my goal; it’s my desire to feel SOMETHING afterward. It’s the devil that I have embraced for so long. Behave badly, Intoxicate yourself, hate yourself in the morning…… and then you can feel alive, horrible but alive…

I give those familiar to me, little pieces, just enough to have them exist, but not enough that they ever know me…. I don’t treat them poorly, but I do make certain that they carry enough contempt for me that I can ultimately replace them with little concern, but I am a “safe friend” to them. It kind of provides me with the order I seek in my world. Its like it doesn’t matter to me who they are to me, just that they “are”.

I, like you, seek security, stability and whatever happiness can be found. Think of yin and yang… I believed I understood it at first sight. It said “balance.” I could tell story after story to illustrate how wrong that “solution” was, but for the sake of simplicity, I’ll use an obvious example. To achieve the security that balance seems to offer, the idea of love is useful. If you love your own child with everything you have, wouldn’t balance dictate that you also hate that child just as strongly? Perhaps hating your own child is unrealistic, but then wouldn’t you have to hate another just to achieve balance? Maybe I would need to hate 100 people a little bit in order to equal the amount of love I have for one person?

Basically, the prospect of trying to hate as strongly as you love is ridiculous. The same can be said of all others endeavors. Would I choose to fail as often as I succeed? Then why did I choose to remain in the familiar and unsatisfying? Why do I feel that someone can’t love me properly without hating part of me? Maybe that’s the reason nobody ever got more than little pieces of me. So I give now all of me to one, feel fearing you hate me, parts of me……its my struggle… balance.

You can never achieve complete success in anything, without giving yourself to that goal. Is the thought of success at that cost so terrifying? Is the idea that I give myself to someone scarier than being alone even with another body in my bed? Is the path to happiness so clear, my partner on this path so obvious, and my desire for that journey so powerful, that I shrink my universe in order to avoid answering the questions? Do I convince myself that I am not worthy? In spite of knowing that my life must have greater meaning, I bury myself in the misery of others, in order to avoid risking my own.

Two souls inhabiting one body. The power of two minds having the same thought. Loving hard, and strong. I love you so much I am scared to be me. Afraid if you could really see me, see through me, you may not then, be in love with me at all.

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