A fictional excerpt on the torture love can cause by yours, truly.

Enjoy! Comment down below if you feel inclined, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Sleep is solace.

A way to clear your mind and start your day anew.

But what if you can’t sleep?

Could you relate if I told you
I lie in bed unable to find the slightest peace of mind?

What if I lose you?

What am I saying?
I never had you.

The tears sting at my eyes.
It’s dark. It’s quiet.
The type of quiet that screams.
Prevents you from those contented, longing dreams.

My mind cannot rest.

You confuse me.
Arouse me.
Entertain me.
Frustrate me.
Excite me.
Lighten me.
Inspire me.

You lift me up to new heights I’ve never known.
It’s the most euphoric high and all you have to do is smile, laugh, say the words you do and it’s too late ugh I’ve already tethered myself to you.
But not shamelessly, that’s the problem and will presumably always be.
I’m attracted to your mind and soul.
I want you- all of you. Body included.
Clouded is my mind with the dirty, yes- rather naughty, thoughts of the potential of you and I. Freed from the confines- of our mundane lives and mundane clothes which rule over my acts because it wouldn’t be the most moral of things to do.

I’m getting to the edge of this precipice of saying fuck it to everything but you.
I can’t help but think about you in these ways.
It’s unhealthy.
I’m insane.
I feel like I’ve truly lost any and all of my sanity, yet I don’t care. Because part of me likes the torture.

Pathetic is my heart to feel this way though my affections have never ever been reciprocated, and I fully doubt they’ll ever be.
All you feel for me is a courtesy.

Nothing more.

I see it’s useless to want you- I’m dreaming.
I’m disgusted with myself for thinking this way.

If I could, I’d change my feelings, but, I can’t.

Badly do I want you.
To know what it’s like to run to your side and kiss you, straddle you, carefully caress you, undress you and much, oh so much, more..
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I wish.. I wish.. I’ve learned it’s futile to wish.
But I’ll wish my wishes nonetheless.

I wish I could stop these feelings.

On the contrary, my contradiction- I wish I could know what it really is to love you.

All I want is to give you the world. To make you happy.
I’d give you all I’ve got in me.

Passion aside, I know I cannot bribe you.

It won’t change a thing.
But still..
These feelings won’t go away.
They’re consuming me.
Entrapping me from within my own mind.

I’m stuck.
And maybe because I’ve never released the words that are dying, threatening to come out.
On the tip of my tongue.
I…
I…

I love you.

Third times the charm.
There I said it, but before you say a thing, let me say I know I’m not your kind.

Not your type.
You’ve overlooked me.
Again and again.

Never hooked on me.

I refuse to be anyone’s second choice.
I’m the first prize – and if you can’t see that with your eyes, I’m not yours.

I already know that answer.

So I’ll keep this all to myself.
All of it.

Protecting my heart, my pride.

Turning from side to side in between the sheets.
My mind won’t oblige.
This is how I’ll die.

But at least I’ll never know the pain that’d come from your rejection.

To be judged and rejected by you are two things I’d never wish to know. And what’s even more, I couldn’t stand the thought of you walking away from me.
That would surely kill me faster.
So here, in the struggle- I ponder..is it better to live without confessing my feelings and die knowing nothing, or is it better to die sooner with your answer- the bitter sting of rejection that I’d foreseeably know to come.
My heart is heavy.
I’ll keep my mouth shut.
Though that might just kill me anyway.
Through these thoughts, I become weary and drift to a short, happy sleep.
And I dream a dream of a happy reality I’ll never fully know.
Until I wake.
I repeat my mundane routine.
At bedtime, I lay awake with patience for hours restlessly until I hit my peak and dream my silly dream of you.
Maybe reality is not all it’s cracked up to be.
In my dreams is where I find the endless possibilities for you and me.

3 thoughts on “Ramblings of a Troubled and Tortured Heart

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