Some stuff (no details) got me thinking today. To be honest, I feel sorry for my boyfriend. I come with an absolute fuckload of emotional garbage. I have been through so many phases in my life that it’s hard to keep track of it, even for me. I’ve been beaten down, got back up, screwed up myself, let go of nearly all my principles, crawled my way back up into life, etc. I have so many fears when it comes to love and devotion that it messes me up completely. I’m sorry, but if you choose to love me, you do not have an easy path ahead.

Emotionally, I’m a nutcase. I go from happy to sad in a second, from normal to vicious in a millisecond and from angry to freaked out in the blink of an eye. Sometimes I don’t even have a real reason for my mood swings, at least not any that sounds reasonable and normal. I have issues devoting myself to someone, trusting someone enough to give them my heart, and even when I do so, I am very likely to cheat on them whenever something goes wrong.

I do not believe one can love more than one person at once, yet I’ve had this nasty habit of having several boyfriends at a time. I went through times when I had no respect at all, not for anyone else, nor for myself or my body. I date boys, tell them I care, then go and ignore their phone calls for weeks until they finally give up or I decide to ‘officially’ dump them, just to get rid of them. I have so many issues being emotionally attached to anything, ranging from a pet to another human being, that I’ve tried to give it up all together for many times.

I learnt how to hide my feelings, how to hide my pain, my anger, until the point that it boils up deep inside to eventually burst out in an explosion of rage. I hit the mirror until it broke, because I could not stand looking at myself and the monster I had become. Grotesque, emotionless, weak, empty. Then I learnt to punch the wall rather than cut myself, decided suicide is never a solution, not even when your mind plays the craziest and most horrid games with you. I learnt how to put all of them things aside and focus on more urgent, important matters, such as studying and becoming something in life.

But hardly anyone knows what I really, really want to do.

I want to run. I want to run until I reach the horizon, and even then keep on running, until the sweat drops down my body and I am too exhausted to even move. I want to run to Paris, to Rome, to London, swim across the ocean if I have to. I want to see the world, because I cannot stand seeing this goddamned forsaken place anymore, all them familiar faces of people I once knew but never really wanted to know, all them painful mermories burried in a hole of six foot deep, all the failures and mistakes I made. I want to run away. Unfortunately there is no place where pain cannot catch up with you. It always catches up, in the long run.

You see, lots of emotional garbage. You don’t want to love. Hell, you don’t even want to befriend me. The only reasons I have friends is because they don’t know who I am, who I really am. Sure I can put up my mask for a while, but that doesn’t change who I am underneat. Sure you can like me because I am cheery and enthusiastic, as long as you ignore the bored look in my eyes and the irriation in my voice. Sure if you barely met me, you can’t know. You can’t possibly know about the insomnia, about the buckload of guilt, about the sorrows and the razor-sharp pain, about the lies and the anger. The anger might be the strongest and the worst. Its inevitable. It’s about to break loose. It always is.

To make a long story short; my dearest boyfriend, I don’t know why you want to be with me. Why you want to get to know me, why you want to open that closet of deeply hidden secrets, why you want to dig up corpses on the cemetery that is my soul? Sometimes I think that is the only reason why you are doing it; because you are drawn to my pain, to my screwed up mind. That would end as soon as you dive into it, trust me. My mind is too wicked, even for you.

It keeps me puzzled though. It amazes me, why you would even try. But I never lied to you, so I suspect you are sort of up for the task, although you can’t really know what that means. You know you’re in for one hell of a ride, but still you hold on and claim you’ll be able to do it.

You surprise me every day.