The worst thing you can do is dwell on the past, especially in a relationship. I get it. You miss your '05 dodge ram with the Hemi, you miss the money you had, and you miss the fun you used to have. How can one move on when their head is stuck in the past? I miss smoking weed on the daily alone in my room watching my tv shows over and over again until i can damn near make a live performance of it. Do I ever bring it up? No, but if so, never sober. Why? Because i fell in love with you and suddenly it didn't matter. My past didn't define me, you did.
Suddenly I was a traveler. Never have i been out of America. Rarely have i been out of Cali. But I was content. I had my bedroom, my shows, and my weed ( thanks to my siblings i had plenty....for free too.) I was set. Good to go. Then i met you. You took me away from my room, my shows, my weed, my constant. But i never looked back. I was finally happy. Like really happy. I traveled away from the U.S of A, I met people who differed from my normal and i loved it. You cultured me. I finally saw, even if just one part, the massive differences of humans living on my side of the earth and the other.
Ive never looked back. Ive never regretted my decision. I could've been alone or with the man you took my heart from. I chose you. I will always choose you. Why can't you see that?
I'm quiet i get it. You don't like it. I'm sorry. It's my defence mechanism. I can't help it. I'd rather say nothing at all than hurt you. I guess that saying really stuck with me. Have you heard it? I've made my mistakes but you're not innocent either.
How do you talk about your feelings with someone who doesn't get it? Who bombards it with events of the past? Who would rather get their thoughts out than understand? I cant make you get it, hell, i cant make you do anything. But you can. I've figured out your pattern, uncovered your secret, i know you. After 4 years it happens. But you cant accept it. You are my king of excuses, my prince of confusion, my greatest challenge. But I have found me.
I know who i am, what I've done, and what satisfies me. I'm a writer. Words speak louder when written. My brain panics with reality but my writing conquers every word.
People change. I hid. Shying away from disappointment and resentment. Afraid to be me. How could I be me without you? Afraid to be heard. How could you hear me with all your facts. Afraid to be honest. Would you really believe me? I've been bad this i know. But I've never betrayed. You're doubtful.
Is it fixable or is it broken beyond repair? Can we cross this river or will we drown?
I know my answer. Can you trust it?
