Dark places, my love; I’d been living in dark spaces where the wounds never ceased to bleed, seeking out the promises the light had failed to deliver. Aching to be delivered from the misery. Desperate for something – anything – to save me. And, caught up the recklessness of finding relief, I ignored the reality before me: this would cause nothing but harm. Yet I persisted. I sought out what I knew with every part and parcel of my being was wrong — I longed for, no, I lusted after my own destruction; I fell right into him in depraved abandon and I enjoyed every moment with guilty pleasure. Oh, it was sick, darling; it was entirely perverse and twisted. And all of this… this is who I am. Can you accept that?
I am mesmerized by your brilliance: your precious flaws, your beautiful feelings. Your gentle heart — your support, your healing. And although the words sound silly, I cannot help but say how extraordinary you are to me. How knowing you is transforming me into someone new. How your presence could light up a thousand rooms. You say you are all out for me, well honey, I am all out for you, too. And I could not have been more lucky than I was on the day that I met you.
I’m no theorist, no therapist. Couldn’t tell you what the trouble was, or where it started. How it happened. These are all good questions, but they’re like a broken record, stuck on repeat, in my head. All these building blocks that don’t match up, and you keep asking why, you wonder how it’s so. Well, all I know for certain is how much I don’t know. And that these riddles of the mind can wear you down to your very bones —
They’re almost always better left alone.