Psychic Bambi

The Unbearable Darkness of Being Skye...
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2001-08-04 07:29:38 (UTC)

"Love".

What is it about this emotion, "love", that can drive us to
speak of our sanity, to speak of death, to speak about how
lost in the darkness we are?

What makes this individual that we crave for, have the
ability to turn our everyday lives upside-down?
What makes you so very special that I long for you months
after your detachment from me?
At least I had you, only for a short while, but I still had
you. Though, would it have been better if I never had?
After all, they say "It is better to have loved and lost,
then never to have loved at all". Bullshit. They've seen
the sparkle fade from my eyes, my head tilt down in
depression to stare at out blood-red carpet as though it
were nothingness.

Being in love is being in love. When someone is so perfect
that any of their faults are seen as something you,
yourself has done wrong. And when they don't want you
anymore, you look at your own imperfections.
People used to wonder why she communed with nature more
than the average person. I wonder why they wonder when
everything human-like can be so very painful.

I know for a fact, that the love won't be forgotton,
neither will the pain, the look in your eye, or the
devastated tears that followed those piercing words.
I hollowed my heart out so you had somewhere to sit. After
you stood up, and seemingly walked away so very easily from
the placed I longed for you to stay, I was left empty.
There was nothing to replace you. There still isn't, it's
still empty.
"My heart has four empty rooms. Three wait for lightening,
one waits for you."

Everything these days is so easily blamed on you. I tell
myself that if only I had you, I know everything would be
okay. My life wouldn't be turned upside-down and depression
would only be a thing of the past. I know though, I'll
never find out.

We all have two voices. The one in our head telling us that
truth, all the things that we don't necessarily want to
hear. Then there's our own voice, the one that we can tell
everyone lies with, we even lie to ourselves; it's okay,
I'm fine, I'm over it - we're all familiar with this voice.
The voice that needs to be trained to tell the truth. Maybe
then, if the truth is admitted to ourselves, we can deal
with it, move on, and still live with that sparkle in our
eyes.

It takes time, but no one in this world is so special
enough that with just the mentioning of his name, the pure
thought of him, can ruin our lives.

The one difference between "live" and "love" is "I".
You, yourself...need to live. I need to live.
Love will come and go, so with this, I say goodbye to you.
I loved you, I really did.


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