Tuesday, August 16, 2011
When those who least inspire me, shower me with love, and affection I don't need, my heart breaks. I feel a vein burst, every pulse exploding like a bomb. To feel the absurdity of such meaningless acts, is to feel like dying a thousand deaths, only to fail at dying itself. When those the least I value tell me they miss me, or need me, they make me want to puke, as if to spit out years of servitude and slavery; In moments like these, I pray the ground would open up, and swallow me. Because their admiration, is not desired, nor wanted. Or even asked for. Their adoration, a mere sandiwara of pretence, trickery and lies. I cannot bear this heartache, which is worse than a lover's last goodbye. Its texture rough and razor sharp, cutting at my chest. Squeezing at my throat. Tearing at my brains. It leaves deep, open scars, wounds that bleed unstoppable. Memories broken and divided. I wish to tell them all to leave; forget me, please. These unwanted actors masquerading as my suitors. Stop the charade, bring down the curtains, vacate the stage! For I cannot be borrowed nor bought; I cannot be persuaded, lulled, seduced or threatened to succumb. Even if all the stars in the sky were offered to me on a golden platter, I must go to that one soul my heart has chosen to die for.
Note: Artwork by Susan Loone.