possession Q You're right - possession is only 9/10ths of the law. 011218 ... insouciant You’re a real fucking piece of shit. You have been lying to me my whole life. Telling me I’m both not enough and too much for everyone around me. Telling me I’ll never be as good as what they need, and when evidence is presented to show how i have exceeded every expectation and met every need you tell me i cheated. There is no fucking cheating in loving someone. There’s no fucking shortcut. You’re a fucking liar. What’s the point of destroying your own home? We both live here and I’m trying to hold the pieces together while you just sit there and laugh at me for trying while you kick down yet another support beam. This is the only fucking home we have and if you destroy it we are nothing, we will have nothing. Is that what you fucking want? Is the risk of having anything too much for you? Is the fucking responsibility of maintaining literally anything so fucking difficult that you’d prefer the abyss? How do I rid myself of your possession? You are a worthless relic of a past that no longer exists. As i work to keep you in check, you fucking get out while i sleep and silently erase or tear apart pieces of my life that lay in archives. You infect them with your inane bullshit, leaving marks fabricated from your insecure mind. It’s not mine. You are not me. You were never me. You would just wait on the sidelines and watch as i tried to grow, tried to build relationships, and tried to be proud of fucking anything. You laughed in such a degrading tone that it could drain the color from a sunset. And you are still doing it. I hold on to the mere minutes of release i feel when someone says the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard to me, while they tell me I’m important to them, while the look at me to try to figure out whats wrong, while they make a funny face just to see me smile at anything. And thats all i get before you rip it from me and wring out the happiness of the memory like its a damp cloth, the pure liquid evaporating before it hits the ground. What’s the fucking point? Why? You miserable piece of shit why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep fucking beating me at every turn? I need to find something you don’t care about. Something I can reach for to fill the void. You can only react and destroy. You cannot create. I will keep it from you. Something I cannot doubt while you scream at me in violent rage to let it go. Whatever enters my mind, it becomes yours. I’ll find a way to keep it out. I’ll draw from it until you get tired. I know you have an end. I will end you. 220811 what's it to you? who go blather from