I Can't Admit It

I’m not supposed to care.

 

I say it all the time. Nothing is supposed to bother me, nothing is supposed to make me lose focus or get in my way. Nothing is worth the stress or the anxiety of wondering “why” or “what if?”. 

 

I’m not supposed to care.

 

Inside me is something I’ve been trying to suppress for a very long time. Something that I can never let out, it’ll only hurt me if I do. I don’t want to get hurt. I did things less than perfect to help suppress it more and more every chance I got. It’s what needs to be done.

 

I’m not supposed to care. 

 

Then it backfired on me. I did something one night that was unexpected and shocking, to say the least. He was there and I was there. Just the two of us. All I could understand was that it was the two of us together, then suddenly it was 5am, and I was alone again. I didn’t want to be alone again. 

 

I’m not supposed to care. 

 

The warmth of his breath, the stain of his lips and the shakiness of his heart, all gone in the blink of an eye. What was hours felt like seconds, then the seconds  start to last forever once I’m alone. I couldn’t understand what was happening to me. Why did this bother me? Why do I feel this way?

 

I’m not supposed to care.

 

Nothing seems seems to be making sense anymore. Why do I feel like my skin isn’t mine? it seems like some important people in my life, don’t think I’m as important. The one with the emerald-blue eyes and rustic blonde waves, where have you been? I needed you, but you were too busy trying your luck with another friend of mine. And the one with the muscles built for a king and a boyish cute smile, I thought we were good. I thought that maybe for a second, we were more than just good.. that there was something there... that we were more than friends. So where is that invite you promised? Is it laying in the couch, along with the key...the key that’s supposed to unlock the door for your friends to sneak in at night? Was I not good enough for my “best friends”?

 

I’m not supposed to care.

 

I don’t know him. I don’t know anything about him. He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know anything about me.. but it feels like his presence has scared me for life. The way his fingers intertwined with mine left my hands itching for more. I can’t tell if it’s in a good way or a bad way. That night wasn’t cold like the ones that came before it, but the ones after were colder than the arctic sea. For a brief moment, there were no thoughts, no worrying, no nightmares, just the motion of my hands gripping at his chest and the sight of droplets of water threatening to escape my eyes being brightened by the soft red heart glowing above us. The night wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than most. The memory is engraved in my brain forever and I want it out. I want it gone now. This isn’t supposed to be like this. 

 

I’m not supposed to care.

 

Why did he bring about these thoughts? Having him in my bed brought another to my head. Someone I swore I’d never speak to again. The night opened me up to a thought I never wanted to revisit. Now I’m thinking about texting, texting things I shouldn’t, things I can’t, it would just make it all worse.

 

I’m not supposed to care.

 

Happiness. The demon living inside me, the one trying to control my life and make things go wrong. She dwells in my soul wanting a way out, looking for an escape. I push and shove and squeeze her down below, so that she can never come out. She screams. She cries. She begs me to see the light of day sometime soon. I know the minute I give her a chance to be free she’ll abuse it, then come crying back. The minute she is out, I’m nothing but naked to the world and vulnerable to it leaving cuts and bruises all over my skin. The minute she comes out, I start to care.

 

I’m not supposed to care.

 

It’s cold and dark in the place I call my home. They see a full fledged human walking around, with no visible signs of struggle. What they don’t know is that I’m not full and that no visible signs doesn’t mean no signs at all. It’s cold and dark, but it’s my home. What is real warmth and sunlight stronger than the big star in the sky? Why am I asking something so silly?

 

I’m not supposed to care.

 

No, the demon doesn’t want to be with him. No, she isn’t asking for anything more. The minute she felt his soft hair and his milky silk skin, she wanted a way out. Maybe she wanted to feel that, with someone else? Someone she wanted to get to know. someone who wasn’t so foreign to her. She doesn’t know yet, she can’t find out until she’s set free. That can’t happen, but she keeps trying. I’m not a psychic but I know he’s never going to talk to me again, therefore I won’t see him again. That’s not the case with her. Just because he’s gone doesn’t mean she’ll disappear too. Since then she’s been more persistent, eating at my body from the inside, just trying to find any way through, any cracks to break open more. There’s an empty pocket in my chest, waiting to be filled with something, anything, is it for her? Everything is always so cold, what’s it like to be on fire? She wants to know. She wants to come home. She wants to be free. I drank just enough that night and so did he. 

 

How is it that a one night stand can do this to me? 

 

or did I do this to myself? 

 

 

I’m not supposed to care..

 

and I’ll probably never admit the truth.

-13