I think a lot too. And one of the things I have learned about doing so, is that it does not always provide me with the best answers.
I didn't realize that you so genuinely believed that I would just leave you like that. I had no idea that you felt us to be so closely intertwined with the building. But that's not what this post is about, and it is certainly not what or who this post is for.
It's for you. The two of you, both of you, one of you, either of you, me, the darkness that dances in our souls, the demons which make us whole, the magic and connection which turns everything inside out and upside down.
I will inevitably switch between the two of you, but you will see me as you invariably do and know that my words were meant for you.
You said things to me about darkness. About my darkness, about your darkness, about consuming my darkness.
And I realized something...This gift you have given me, to accept my darkness, to swallow my sins, to shelter my raging storm...News to me, as usual, that which is right in front of my eyes. What an amazing blessing it is to be able to hand someone my darkness that I may shine.
And it's crazy you know, that I can take her box of darkness for safekeeping, but not yours. Part of me feels a deep sadness that I cannot keep that for you, and some guilt that you have chosen to be the keeper of my demons and I want so desperately to cradle hers...
I get it now though, how precious and beautiful and painful to be the keeper of someone's darkness. Because I want hers.
I didn't want to be alone tonight. But it's okay. Because the pull has been so fucking strong. I feel you. Constantly. Both of you. And he feels you through me because that is what we are. It is sensory overload, a crowded yet lonely road, fucking ecstasy and fear.
I wish you could see you like I see you. Both of you. For you know not what you are, either of you. You are incapable of beholding your own beauty, which is, in an of itself, a beautiful thing.
Do you think that I or we cannot handle your crazy, your family, your own personal shit-show? You would be wrong. Do you think that I do not know when I need to be with my children, and when other shit comes first? I have made many sacrifices for them and will, no doubt, make many more. I am capable of knowing when and how I need to make those choices.
The truth is, I'm fucking terrified. And I try to sooth your demons, both of you, but I'm just me. And I need you to see each other with the same insight that you see me.
I am sorry that you are both my place, my saving fucking grace. I know that I'm a damn hurricane. And so are you. One a storm like mine, the other a shelter for all storms now and those which have come before.
Don't run from me. Run with me. Drown in the fucking sea. Take a chance in the fucking deep end for me. I'm worth it if I am as you say you see me.
Your understanding of me is limited by your perception of him. His perception of you is felt through me. It is not an easy place to be.
I think it scares you, this control which I have given to him, the control which gives him license to tell me which way to go. What you do not see is that his love of me becomes love of you. That he wouldn't ask of me to leave you if you give me that chance that was asked of you. That he wouldn't break your heart because it is intertwined with mine, that he contains my darkness so that I can hold yours.
I carried my boy to bed, thoughts of you both wandering through my head...
I am sorry my love, that after all these years I found an element like mine, one who turned me inside out and upside down, sorry that you feel through me all of those things she can barely see. You are more loyal than I deserve, more loyal than I have earned. You are a more beautiful human being than you give yourself credit for. I'll never forget that, never desert it, never dishonor it.
I am sorry my love that life is a shit-show. He is that which I have needed him to become, and you are that which I have come to need. If I am to you as you profess me to be, than I am worth a chance, worth that long slow dance. Many lifetimes before, come and gone, some perhaps together, other perhaps tragedy written in the stars, tragedy which makes for just one of many scars. But not this one. Oh my lovely, please not this one. Come see what it is to be warm. Make magic with me and trace lines through the stars. Show me all of your old and new scars. Take this fucking chance and be mine in this life and time.
Without you is not a good reality for me. Help me rise above El Mundo Malo, and exist in El Mundo Bueno. Help me exist where I was meant to be. And I'll do the same for you.