"I hate that your outward appearance doesn't match the things that come out of your mouth" - she says.
What a revelation. Up until this point I thought the point of getting close to someone was to let the walls come down and let the wounds, scars, and worries for the future finally make the presence. funnily enough, I was instructed and encouraged to naturally let this happen by the very same person who has decided to tell me she absolutely despises the inner workings of my brain and the muddied, disgusting, shameful secrets that my soul keeps locked up tight, exposing itself to nobody - under normal circumstances.
somewhere, at some time, you slipped inside me quietly, whispered softly in my ears that this is a safe place, and to let go. love is blind and it's also downright stupid, but i loved hearing that. you gracefully tip-danced your way into my psyche and told me everything is and will be okay. you did it with such allure, such hypnotism, benevolence and tenderness. I was the little spoon, and behind me was the safest and sweetest place on earth, fully enveloping me in what i think is referred to as "trust"
and trust you i did. in your defence, you never told me to trust you. you never promised me anything. there was no contract, written in pen or blood or sensual exchanging of body fluids that explicitly said that i should have any reason to feel safe. you told me to feel safe, to let my guard down, to be me around you so you can get to know me - when I'm around you, and nobody else is.
and now, in hindsight, the critical error in judgement I made is clear as day. its much easier to decide if you care about me when you know who I am. I was Prince charming at the masquerade ball- suave, mysterious, and seductive. It's not coincidental that the mask I chose to wore was specifically designed to hide all the ugly, dirty, brokendown, and almost vile mosaic of all the greatest(worst) elements beneath.
the things that came out of my mouth and tumbled into your earlobes were much like secrets. they were stored deep down inside my soul and buried away forever. I had every intention of taking them with me to the grave, shouldering my own burdens, and not volunteering anyone the displeasure of having to lighten the load, or even know what the load was.
its unfortunate that you hate the things that come out of my mouth. the things you told me to tell you. the things that i adamantly refused to express. those words, much like uncontrollable projectile vomit spelled out irrefutable evidence of what was deep down inside me before you were around patting me on the back and telling me its okay while i continued to spew every sour, rotten and once digested detail about myself into the toilet.
i like the metaphor I've vividly conjured up here. my hopes for salvation, security, and the partial understanding, or not even the understanding - but at least the willingness for a caring individual to stick around went straight down the drain.
I'll continue practicing my stoic charade. i do a damn good job and i can only get better. my words? I'll keep those to myself, thank you.
