I’m so sorry. I miss you so much, even though we have just seen each other. But I miss you so much because even when I’m with you I’m never able to fully process and appreciate you and our time together. Whenever we have to separate I cry because I know that I was never truly there and that I was still stuck in my head wondering and worrying about other things besides us. Whenever we’re together my mind goes quiet and it’s so quiet I feel like I can finally breathe and when we separate I feel like I’m back to drowning in the eternal hell that my thoughts have created in my mind. I feel as though I’m a small insignificant creature thrown into a bath of salt water. While it stings my skin and I scream from the pain the salt pours into my throat making me choke and wonder if there is a way for me to ever escape that hell. While the salt burns and dries and rips holes into my body and soul. Other times I feel like a pile of sludge unable to move stuck in my swamp covered in my stench and muck, unable to even ask for help or seek others because the shame of my own mess is so overwhelming. Other times I feel like I’m a mouse stuck in a desert dying with the hot searing sun beating down on me making me beg the skies to let me be rid of the horrid experience and the only assistance I get is vultures that I have to please and hug while they peck at my body and rip at my flesh praying that I entertain them long enough to stay alive a little longer. I feel all these hells when you aren’t with me. There is no other way to explain how the overstimulating, overwhelming, depressing, and anxiety-inducing experience drains, rips, and kills me. I have no clean part of me to offer to you because of the sludge I’m stuck in. I have no nice words to say because my throat is all dried up. I have no smile to show you because it’s been tainted by my offering it to others. Nothing about me is adequate nor acceptable anymore. I can’t think of myself as the wondering caring and loving person you claim to see and love. I love hearing about the beautiful goddess you describe me as because I can continue to delude myself into thinking that I’m all right and that I’ll feel fine eventually. That I am that amazing person, and I am enough of a being to earn and keep your attention and love. I love to believe that but I know who I am. I know that I’m not a good person and that I will never be able to get close to the insane idea you have of me. I will always be that creature, a pile of sludge, and a small scare mouse. Nothing I do or say will ever be enough for you by my standards so I can only pray I can be enough for yours.
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