About Love

"I knew it. I saw it. I felt it. But I thought if I just could ignore it, it would go away. But it didn’t. You’re still here. I feel you. I’ve, on the other hand, ignored myself. I’m a self-loathing bastard and any excuse to behave as such is more than welcome. I just have to be miserable. And I am. I love you. My words are just words and there’s nothing I can do to prove my feelings so I’ve just chosen self-loath, because my heart is beating, because I’ve lost another line of coke into my brain, because I feel and just because… I love you. And it doesn’t matter how many times I play it in my head I’m a fuck up. I’ve been fucking up since I’ve met you. I’m losing you. That I know. What I know, but what to do to accept it? You can no longer stand me at your doorstep. And I do understand you. Who would want a needy self-loathing bastard crying down your steps? I know I wouldn’t. But nonetheless you’ve insisted. You just need or want to fix me. I can’t be fixed. I drink to wash away my undying mellow pains. I sniff coke to bring them back alive. I’m a writer, that’s the only way. At least, the one I can cope with or work with. I love you. I just wanted you to know that. Therefore I’m leaving. I can’t stand any other guy being with you. I’m a jealous prick, I know. I’m a bastard, I know. And yet I just wanted one kiss, just one kiss to bring me back to a beating line. You can’t do that. That I know too. Yet I love you. I do so. Please believe my heart, thus my words aren’t enough for you and my mouth just speaks gibberish. I love you, that’s all. Well, not all. I’m in love with you. Keep me near, swear my heart, leave it. Another line of coke. I feel alive. You’re my addiction. I can’t leave you. Never. And when the white lines end. I still have you, in my mind. My addiction. My love. Just you!"
V