begging

I hate weakness. I hate crying. I hate crumbling. I hate being sad. I hate begging. I hate admitting my failures. I hate apologizing. I hate repenting, especially out loud to someone. I hate fighting. I hate sleeplessness. I hate loneliness. I hate waiting. I hate hurting. I hate hating.

Under the weight of all these "hates" lies a thousand definitions for what I so desperately want in you. It seems like the undertones of everything within me is this piece of you that scarcely exists anymore. Or is it that it's so prevalent that I no longer know where you end and where I begin? Who is it that I love to this degree and can barely even communicate with?

What is it that you expect me to tell you when you ask me these questions? What is it that you want me to say? I mean, within my very limited view of the plethora of intricacies that you're dishing out on my lap, what the hell do you want from me? Where do I fit into this equation that you have carefully created? What is my purpose? Or have I always been the wrench in your picture? Have I been the scar on your face?

Hours will tick away and eventually my emotionally bruised self will fall asleep. I'm tired of your washing machine, and yet, I don't want to be. I hate the confusion of you, but yet I love it at the exact same time. I hate needing you, but yet I adore it. I hate loving you.

Some days I wish I could be a better example of the equation of normal that the world holds. Some days I wish I wasn't so intricate or perceptive, or aware of the crap the world has created. Some days I wish I could be more naive. I wish I could be more blinded by humanity. Some days I wish I could be a better version of sheep. On other days I wish I could be less. And isn't that just the complete irony of how you and I work? I mean, you get to hold all the playing cards and all the answers and you get to have everything that is in me and that is me and it doesn't really matter whether or not I want to? I mean, I get to love you to this sickening degree of loyalty and yet know almost nothing about you except that which I cannot explain.

My love is illogical. It's unrational and complicated and messy and immensely confusing. Yet I so desperately want it to be beautiful and wonderful and everything that you've imagined for it to be. I want to be stronger than I am. I want to live up to the expectations that you have placed on me. I want to be worthy of the enormous amount of work that you have placed on my shoulders. I want to be more than I am capable of.

It's true that I want people to like me. I think you have known that about me always. I think you feed on it.

Is it possible to lust after you? I mean, when we look at the definition of "lust" it isn't sexual. Lust is a "strongly held desire." Can I sin by lusting after you? I mean, is that possible? Aren't I supposed to lust after you? Aren't you supposed to be my most strongest held desire?

Why do you keep telling me things I don't want to know? Why do you keep answering questions I haven't asked? Why do you tell me? Why do you trust me with the information that my breaking and shattering heart isn't capable of holding? Why do you want me to be willing to give up that which I adore? Is it the willingness you seek or the treasure itself? Why do you trust me with such sorrow? What if I fail? What if I fall and I can't pick myself back up? What if you don't show up in the moment of immense agony? What if I really do end up all alone? What if you become someone I hate? What if everything that you have told to me, and to those around me, ends up being true? What if it stops being some illusion of an experience and it becomes my reality? Will you really be big enough to handle the mess I become? Will you really promise to always stick around? Or do you just want me to be willing to let it go? Because the last time you did this...I lost what I loved.

I hate begging...