232

by Violet

Everything is perfect but I feel terrible. I have everything I need, but it’s not enough. I see the world through rose tinted glasses and there are moments I want to blow my brains out.

I’ve started smoking again. The narcissist in me trying to find the romanticism in dying young. Drinking more whiskey hoping that will make the words pour out, finding there is none because once again I’m empty. I find people strange. I find myself stranger. I want to be alone but I can’t stand being lonely. I want to be loved but I’m never good at it myself.

What could be more sobering than kissing someone for hours not out of passion but because they’re there? What could be lonelier than three tangled bodies out of sync? We try so hard to be close but the distance is louder than anything else.

When we’re young we drink to forget the pain. As we get older we drink to remember it. Those moments of excruciating agony that we thought would make or break us, are now the only moments worth remembering. When the high wears off and you realise you’re far more sick of pleasure than of pain. The pain is the only part of you that still feels real. It’s the only thing that reminds you you’re still living.

I suspect for the most part, writers simply enjoy hearing the sound of their own voice. They want an excuse to hold a voice recorder and wander around the house speaking out loud to themselves and not be called crazy for it. This is why solitude brings out the best in artists. Only when you feel safe in the knowledge that no one is watching you, can you create something you would share with a million strangers.

We throw around euphemisms and attempt to disguise our narcissism as a yearning to be heard, to feel understood. But the truth is we’re simply selfish. I just want your attention. I want you to hear my story, understand my grief, my pain. I want you to know my mistakes and love me anyway. Love me as I am, forgive me for all my transgressions.

I am as stubborn as they come. I refuse to change, even when I know it’s good for me. I can hurt you and love you in the same breath. I will save you only so I remember how to break you again. I know I am the type to leave people, so I am terrified of being left. I think the worst of everyone, because I am the worst of them all. I’ve said goodbye before, I know the words. You look into my eyes again, you hear them say ‘stay, stay, stay’.

Advertisements