fell apart

last night, though that's probably inaccurate; i was more like a wrecking ball tearing it down.

it isn't his fault that i can't get over it. he tried, tries, i know he does, sometimes, but what good is it to be wanted only when you're leaving? i can't be on the way out all the time. i don't want to be the threat that keeps him here.

i guess it boils down to this: i don't want to be here.

he thinks i'm crazy; thinks he should drag me to a shrink, drug me up, i'll be ok, normal, myself but leveled out. what has level ever had to do with me? i don't need leveled out, don't need cured. a drug with amnesiac properties might work, might erase everything that's brought me here, but then i'd be cheating myself out of the truth about where i am, and why.

i am not who i'm supposed to be. i have melted away somewhere along the line, left bits and pieces of myself scattered through the years and somehow i have to try and collect those pieces, patch them haphazard over the holes we've made and try and put myself back together again. i won't look the same, but i might finally be whole in a patchwork, mended sort of way.