11/30/24
you know what you have to say fuck you to the parallel universe where you two are holding hands
first there was the parallel place you promised you would love what was good for you (and then went back on your word in this one)
the parallel hole where you’re sitting on the bus with him by the window, your children wrapped around you with their four cultures, languages overfilling your mouths like bile. he’s wearing a tux and you don’t know what you’re wearing because you can only keep your eyes on the corner where his body lies. he’s gazing out the window in a comfortable way, comfort he couldn’t afford when he first saw you because he was afraid of you
it’s a sick story — you’ve started a life together in his country that is your country but belongs to you less. when you walk about the streets they will look at you and not say a word against the life you’ve constructed, because that’s just the way your people are: they have guns for eyes but would never dare pull the trigger
look around this parallel paradise; you’ve managed to build something outside your horrid families where your only world is this person you are sick for.
but when is ever the right time to pronounce this love dead? for it is only fictional. is it a two party deal that requires his consent to break it off, though love be an invisible thing that no one knows the cause of, what severs it, what makes it official? look, this thing you are so involved in. how could you know nothing about what has trapped you, entangled your soul?
you had your little fantasy didn’t you. for 2 or 3 years, you were asleep, for that is what idle love does. you wanted to use him forever but now playtime is over. now you have only your life to return to.
in a sense i love you still, somewhere on another floating earth, one where i was not so easily able to press you out of my eyes. maybe it is not our fault. maybe only this time we have reincarnated to a loveless planet, one where it is a birthright to disregard love because it doesn’t suit us, not really
talk about the empty space
ok so talking about the empty space where i knocked you out of my visions and you collided with the wall and you actually slipped through it cus i mistreated you and you went along and found a farther-along- the-journey version of me. because you can’t stop finding me everywhere. what the hell is even happening in me that i still write about it?
fuck you to the parallel universe of a one true love with a person you knew instantly would fill your days endlessly. because a stranger’s love would have felt better than your own. how could you believe that one thing in this life could be the answer. fuck the parallel version of you that gets to have him, or fuck the parallel version of you whose curiosity was satisfied, who knows him really, who knows the you when you’re in love — perhaps that is the one thing still really bothering you
here, hand over your dirty heart; it’s ok. you are a bad human and to admit that as early as possible is what removes the horror
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