To Be Continued...

11-01-2016 | 00.37

My life is falling apart and it feels too good.

Like I'm holding on to a single, worn-out thread that could snap at any moment. Exhilarating.

And I'm positively mad. I feel insane. Yet, insanity even refuses to befriend me.

I am angry. I am angry with him.

For his lack of clarity. For his selfishness. For his unappreciative behaviour. For his twisted logic I might understand one day, maybe, that somehow makes sense to minds alike.

I am angry. I am angry with myself.

For my naivety. For my kindness. For giving him my heart on a shining platter, with the finest silver, burning lavender-scented candles and wine to quench his thirst for praise.

The reasons continue till the far end of the lake I want to drown my thoughts in.

I am angry but I only look sad. I am angry but I feel pathetic.

Oh and why can I not hate him? Why, when my lungs scream for air and my chest cannot squeeze in any tighter?

He is coffee. The cold and bitter kind, cup forgotten on an island of a fancy kitchen where nobody can be bothered to remember, or enjoy the taste.

I am just me, myself and I. Metaphorically unattractive. Unacceptable and ignorable to most. The only important one being him, of course.

Daily life is a s t r u g g l e. I cannot pretend that I'm fine longer than I have, that he hasn't moved on, that he isn't alright, that I am memorable, that I am wanted.

I am fine without him.

But why must I settle for fine when I can be happy?

And why does my definition of "fine" not include "alive"?

How do I feel beautiful again?

So many 'whys' and never an answer.