It’s like a nervous little tick, one second deep breaths and then switch, I’m sick. Confidence fueling the moment before while staggering self-judgment chips away at the one I’m in. This side, that side. Hot and cold. Like a bitch, I would know.
Sometimes you’re the toxic one. Sometimes it’s me. Blame goes both ways and there are zero possibilities where responsibility isn’t shared. Some stand up, some sit down. Are you walking away or are you fighting for your right? Right to live, right to choose. To walk away. Is 100% assurance even a thing? Are we doomed to suffer from the risks of vulnerability to maybe find someone who greets with feathers instead of stones? Sweaters instead of knives?
Teach me how to be the good guy who chooses himself every time because he sticks around no matter what. I wake up with me, I go to sleep with me, why wouldn’t I invest in this body more than any other? Make myself cum before inviting someone else in my bed. Learn my ways most because I can measure my worth before anyone else.
I’ve lost myself a million times and only found myself half of one. I struggle and fight to a point of relief just to watch it slip into despair from a direct effect of my laziness and disconnect of self. I think, if they don’t care, why should I? If they give up, why can’t I? What it boils down to is the difference between me and you. The fact that I couldn’t live with me knowing I let a passion slip away. I couldn’t fight for me knowing I’ve given less than I had to someone in need. I couldn’t be me without giving all that I have to all that I know.
And I’ll fight through this confusion. I’ll fight through the war of self-love to believe at one point in this life of mine, I will trust myself, as I should. Love myself as fully as I desire. As full as I strive to be, I will be such.
So long as I believe. So long as I fight for this right. My right to be. That’s all there is right now. That’s all there is today.
Self on 35mm film