hungry-dahmer

[hungry-dahmer]

I'm sitting in the exact spot where she broke my heart. I want something real. I wish with every atom of being that she would text "come pick me up"

It won't happen. I hate my heart.

[hungry-dahmer]

Your Ghost...

Driving west. The sleepy sun closing it's eye. A dirty fire orange bathes the sky. Music. Beauty. A vacuum next to me a hole in the shape of you. Memories not made.

You once called me the dream. You were my dream.

I drive by your house just to feel close to you. Your presence made me feel calm. I felt safe with my arms around you. You felt it too.

I look at your pictures and I cry.

I miss the memories that we will never make. The things I wanted to show you. The magic we made as our souls peaked through our eyes and into each other.

I wish you would fight for me. I need something to believe in.

[hungry-dahmer]

What If...

I see her. I see her everyday. With her sway, her words, and her eyes. The ghost of our intimate moments haunt me. The ghost of the night I held her and touched her face. The night she told me I am the dream she has always wanted.

I washed the shirt that smells like her. The smell that haunts me like a cruel spirit. I miss the way she made me feel about myself. I miss the glaces and the smiles, the stolen time of brief hugs when we could sneak them.

I miss the future I could see with her. I miss the weekends that never materialized. I miss her so goddamn much. I miss the way she made the world feel magic and hopeful.

I can't compete with the person she wants her boyfriend to be. I can't compete with the fantasy person she has spent two years building in her head.

I can't live with the what if. But what if is the thing that should have been.

Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, whoever you are with, I hope you are happy and warm and you feel safe.

[hungry-dahmer]

People have been apologizing to me a lot lately; Lacey, Heather, Lewis. I've been apologizing too. Apologizing for things I've done wrong, and because apologizing is something I do. If I apologize then maybe it will help other, maybe it will help me, maybe it is just something I learned along the way.

I have always been jealous of people who can sing, or make beautiful sounds by plucking a cord, or by manipulations of their breath. Lacey once told me, "You don't have to be good at singing to enjoy singing." She has a point. I don't have to be good, but I feel that if I was then maybe people could see my soul. I don't feel seen very often. I'm often overlooked, or standing at the sideline. A constant observer, not to be seen or interacted with uncoupled from situations but vaguely present, like a can or a bag, something discarded and briefly noticed.

Goddamnit, I deserve something good. I deserve to be seen and to be communicated with. My soul is tired. I make constant effort, and sometimes I fuck up, but I deserve the moments that others take for granted.

I'm strapped in this rollercoaster called anxiety. The loud popping of the chains and gears as it pulls the little cart to the apex. A small delay, hesitation, just before the bright pink cart explodes into motion taking me places I don't want to go. None of it exciting. All of it lonely and terrifying.

It would be nice if someone else made some effort. I doubt that will happen. No one sees me. So here I am. Once again strapped in. Are all hands and feet inside the cart?

Woooooooosh

[hungry-dahmer]

Hospital time then

[hungry-dahmer]

I see her. I see her in ways she wants to be seen. I see her in ways she tries to hide from others, and herself.

I see very line. Every curve. The two shades of blue her eyes. I see how they all dance together to make her unique.

I see the hurt and pain. I see the damage. I see the cuts and bruises and the scabs on her soul. I see where the foundation has cracked leaving large scars across her world.

I see her clinging to a dream. A dream that will never be the way she wants it to be. I see her struggling to cut the pieces from the puzzle that don't fit in order to make a beautiful image.

I see her when I close my eyes. I see her when I breathe. I see her every time I touch pencil to paper. I see the picture she wants to one day build. I see how to build that. I see how to make her whole. I see the magic she so desperately wants to see.

I want her to see me again with those beautiful eyes.

[hungry-dahmer]

Moving on...

Goodbye tumblr. I dont need you anymore. I now only peruse the things that are good for my mind and heart. I am happier than I have been in a long time.

[hungry-dahmer]

I'm scared. I haven't had this feeling in so long. Some existential knot buried deep inside my chest. I'm worried. There has always been transparency problems. I just want to be in my FJ. I want to smoke and drink at the river. I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I need some honestly, and some love. I want this knot to go away forever. Please, just talk to me and help this weather change.

[hungry-dahmer]

All alone in space and time. There is nothing here, but what's here is mine

[hungry-dahmer]

The Crossroads

The crossroads is always an uncomfortable place. There are multiple paths to take, none of them come with any certainty. Each step on my path to this place has been with fortitude and clear goals. The bumps in that path has worn my soles with doubt and questions that is now apparent at this crossroads. Unlike Robert Johnson there is no devil here to sell my soul for the things I want. If there was I certainly would. I would give anything for a compass that pointed true. I don't think I will get that. I think I will stay in this crossroads for as long as I can and pray to a golden haired angel to give me a sign. This razors edge is uncomfortable but worth it if the wind graces me with a little fortune. I don't need a martyr; just a loving hand and maybe a little company. That may be asking too much though. Which ever way any of these paths take me they are in desperate need of upkeep.

I seem to repeat the same mistakes in life. I have fallen to the temptations of false promises so many times that I have begun to question my very nature that drives me. I want to believe in synchronicities that the universe whispers, but I don't wish to fool myself into the same mistakes that hang from my soul like chains. I want a kind spirit to help strip me of the chains, and maybe lead for a little while.

I still know what I want, but that path will have to have some road signs and hopefully a map. In the meantime I rest here and try to find solace that I have found proof of my own free will.

[hungry-dahmer]

He sat at the edge over looking the river. This was his place. A place to come away from the noise. A peaceful sad place. His life is something he contemplates often. His future is a tapestry of paint and hope; everything where it belongs, planned years in advance. That tapestry hangs on constant threat and ruin.

The last two weeks had been cruel. The last two weeks left him feeling numb and hollow. He had strapped himself in for ride of hope and pain. If Spring Break had broke his heart then this week had turned those pieces to dust. A vile creature born in the depths of everything we loathe about our species had wormed his way into his life, and the life of his love. Calling this creature human would do disservice to even the most wicked humans. This creature filled his mind with cleverly constructed lies. Lies meant to hurt. This creature used our hero as a weapon to hurt her. In the process the delivery mechanism for pain broke. The creature tried to hurt her, but broke our hero. Within these lies were also uncomfortable truths that now hang from our hero like weights at the at the very bottom of the river he now looked at.

He didn't know where to go from here. Each step felt out of place and forced. His heart was hurt so bad. He was shattered into his base elements. He hurt so bad that it was hard to cry. A hurt so deep that it had turned his emotions off. Our hero lives on feelings. Feelings hang and dangle from his every word and action. He does nothing without purpose. Everything has more depth than anyone cares to look. These driving forces had been broken. A type of wound that doesn't just go away. He wanted her. He wanted to be in her arms, maybe then he would be whole enough to cry and release the pain. This of course was not possible. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to huddle under her umberalla. He wanted to express wounds and weight that now sinks him. This wasn't an option either. She is dealing with the pain of an old loss. A loss so dear that the windows of her soul still leak from the tragedy. She didn't need more weight than what she carried. She couldn't be there to help because he wouldn't ask her to. He learned long ago that to suffer as a lion rather than being content as a worm was part of the dogma of being a hero. He would hurt. He would cover it with pain and alcohol and maybe one day it will dissolve back into the soil of his soul.

This creature had uncovered the soot from anxieties that he had burried. These anxieties awoke like a dragon. They ate at him and violently clawed through the blood and bone to find the place where is heart used to dwell. They took root and sent their black tendrils through his body. This would be only thing that had energy enough to sustain him. They would pump the black ichor of fear and insecurity through his body. They feed his mind and soul an oxygen rich ichor of Tom.

Tom was a shadow that blocked out the light. Everything good and pure and hopeful lived in this shadow. She loved Tom passionately sometimes. Those sometimes were more powerful than the love that she shared with our hero. Even the sorrow that Tom would bring daily was something that the love of our hero and heroine could not overcome. Tom gave her what was easy. Our hero gave what was hard, and no matter the amount of blood and sweat and pain our hero used it was the easy things of Tom that won. She said Tom wouldn't be an issue. She has said a lot of things though. Her love for Tom cirppled our hero. It brought to life pain so deep that he finally began to cry. He wept like a widow. He wept because he knew the truth. If Tom were to wake up the next day and tell her a tiny fraction of the words that our hero had she would marry him. She would make passionate love and that would be the tapestry of the rest of her life. Our hero could not compete with this truth. The truth that even on the worst days her heart wanted Tom more than her heart has ever wanted anything.

In the grand scheme of things our hero knew that he wasn't what she truly wants. All she wants is Tom. Even when he hurts her she makes more effort with Tom than our hero sees.

He looked out across the breast of The Arkansas River. It looked cold and comfortable. A siren's song called to him, "Stop fighting. Stop hurting. I will hold you for the rest of your life. Your tears will be lost in my breast. You will find peace from the torment. Tom holds no power over me."

[hungry-dahmer]

He sat alone again. The purr of the wine colored FJ had become the the sound of his heart breaking. This night like so many others dog earred his last five months. This night she had once again bailed on plans. This night was not like the others in one way, this night was Valentine's Day.

The lit ember of his cigarette hugged close to the butt. It burned at his lips as it danced and sparked to life with a deep inhale of poison. He welcomed the burn. It was a brief temporary distraction. He discarded his poison and quickly lit another. How had this happened? Why does this keep happening? Why does it hurt to love her? His relationship had been brief excited moments of happiness bookended by heart wrenching disappointment.

'Why does it hurt to love her?' This was a new question. Birthed just minutes before but already it dug thorns into his heart. He thought. Examining himself with a thorough internal eye. That ever present eyes scanned through five months of communication and forgotten plans. Five months to the day. This was the five month anniversary of meeting her. He eyes their last messenger conversation:

"It would make my Valentine's if I could get some of your time later tonight. I love you"

"Of course" she replied.

She replied as if this was a regular occurrence. She replied as if it was time that was spent on a regular basis. His heart smiled. His brain knew better. He knew she would infact not give any of her time. He learned to expect this.

He lit another L&M menthol 100. He chose these tonight because they would kill him faster. The answer to the question that wormed painful tunnels through his heart was "I am not Tom".

That is why it hurt. He wasn't Tom. Despite what she said about Tom he was still the person that got her time and her effort. Almost all of the things she bailed on she bailed because of Tom. Tom's parties, Tom's friends, drinking with Tom, going to dinner and brunches with Tom, trying to talk to Tom about feelings. He wasn't Tom and this is why it hurt.

Tom ignored her. Tom treated her badly, but she danced in his proximity like a butterfly desperately entranced by a bug zapper. She said Tom wasn't an issue. She said the relationship wasn't real, yet the real relationship was always eclipsed by her proximity to Tom. It were a different time he would ride to her, horse and sword. He would travel the one thousand one hundred thirty miles and slay the dragon that still kept her heart, he would be a hero and set her free. That wouldn't work.

He lit another cigarette as his anxiety began to take over. Tom took her to Hooters. He fed her food and alcoholic beverages. Tom bought her flowers that our hero couldn't afford. She would hug those flowers close while the flowers our hero set at her dad's house, unrecieved, forgotten, and already starting the process of decay. Tom probably didn't even know what her favorite flower was. Lillies. They are lillies. Tom would take her home. He would tell her he loved her. Give her scotch our hero can't afford. He would tell her the things she so desperately wanted to her. They would kiss. The would make love. It would passionate. After all it is because of Tom that our hero can't get time.

He hated his brain. He hated the things his anxiety showed him. The problem is that they were all seeds of truth. He checked messenger again for the 30th time this hour.

He lit another cigarette. He sat and listened to the purr of the wine colored FJ. He sat on Valentine's Day. He sat on their anniversary.

He opened up messenger. A tear rolled down his face. He typed a message into the empty space.

"Happy Valentine's Day"

[hungry-dahmer]

We'll be sad together

Sometimes we are powerless. Sometimes we fight against the tide so hard that we exhaust ourselves. The last two years has exhausted me. My pockets are empty and the world isn't even close to the place I want to be. Sometimes it doesn't matter what we do. Things are the way they are and there is nothing we can do to change it. I still believe in trying though. I still believe in boiling hope and jubilations up from the depths of the places that they drip down into and collect. Hopes and smiles from other times or times not yet had. Those feelings are always diluted when they aren't pure, sometimes those feelings just aren't enough. The effort has made me tired and lonely.

[hungry-dahmer]

Beyond good and evil

I have been doing a lot of thinking about Polyamory for about 4 months. I've spent a great deal of time rolling it over and I have finally come to some conclussions. It is built on a value system that is flawed. Despite it's inherent dangers and traps there are a few circumstances in which I think it could and probably would work. I'm going to discuss those first.

1. In situations of casual dating. In those situations where no one has big attachments, plans, or ideals Polyamory works, and it can probably actually work really well here. This allows the poly person to explore their personal interests and even evolve as a person while they try on many different hats to see which hat fits their value system.

2. In pre defined Polyamorous relationships. In a relationship in which both parties agree and practice poly. This can work. I do feel however, that the flawed values within poly relationships will begin to show here. Despite the profound limitations ( yes, limitations ) that poly relationships will experience it can work here.

Now, for everything else. The problem with poly relationships is that they are inherently selfish. This selfish expression of relationship ideals is actually a self limiting practice even though it is supposed to be liberating. It can be liberating in the fact that you can have relationships with a bunch of people; but no one ever stops to ask 'at what cost?'. In a optimimized healthy relationship with two people the questions each party begins to ask is "How are you? What can I do to better your life? What can I do to make you feel good?" This is a sentiment that requires team work, dedication, and two people existing on the same frequency. In a poly relationship the question becomes more internalized. Regardless of how much you think you love and are dedicated to a person those questions always become "How am I? What can I do to better my life? What can I do to make me feel good?"

This is where the limitations of Polyamory become realized. Would you rather have a whole bunch of really crap pizza, or one really good pizza? Would you rather have a whole bunch of friends with no real deep connection or a few really good friends that understand you? The quality of the things in our lives directly reflects the investment ( time, emotion, sacrifice, attention ) we give it. This is true of everything. Every moment spent working on something detracts from the quality of something else, this is just how life works. Sure you may slide through college living on beer and cocaine with no real work and at minimum effort and you may get rewwarded for it, but at the end what is the quality of that education? The same principal applies to relationships. Every moment within a relationship that is spent pursuing another relationship will weaken the potential and quality of the first exponentially based on the number of satellite relationship. Each satellite relationship will in turn suffer a limited potential just like the first for each other that comes after it.

Polyamory seems to attract people who want real relationships but want to avoid the very real responsibility of maintaining, protecting, and nurturing those real relationships into their full potential. I know people are going to baulk because I implied that poly relationships aren't real like traditional relationships--but ask yourself this; would you rather have steak that someone pulled out of the freezer and spent 20 minutes on in order to get the next steak ready, or would you like to have a steak that has been aged, marinated, tenderized, rubbed with spices, and tenderly prepared over the course of days or weeks to bring you something special? Sure, Waffle House can be good, but no one really wants to live on that, it gets old, depressing, and you eventually wonder where the real steaks are.

Polyamory can work well in very specific situations, but there is always a cost. Outside of those specific situations it is a selfish endeavour with a broken value system and it can only cause suffering.

There it is. That is my conclusion after months of pondering this beast and pulling it apart with an anylitical eye. Like it or don't I think there are imlerical facts about life that decelope and sustain the conclusions I've come to. I may piss people off, but I think on a fundamental level my conclusion can't be ignored. Hopefully I will be done tumbling this idea around in my head. I have other ideas that need permanent attention.

[hungry-dahmer]

Fuck it. If I'm crying and fucking miserable I might as well be crying and miserable and trying to accomplish something. I want to crawl in a hole and hide from the whole fucking planet today. It is a hard world for people who care. Sometimes caring hurts too much.

[hungry-dahmer]

I just need someone right now, anyone. I need to know that one day things will be better.

[hungry-dahmer]

Too much tripping and my sole is worn thin...

Today has shown me how little people truly care. Everyone around me uses me for what I do, can do, or will sacrifice for them. I am tired. I am tired of taking daily abuse at work from the people I try to help all the while pulling my mind apart with overtime. People have shown me that even if I destroy myself for them, like I have for the past two years, it is not enough. They want more. They want to consume and destroy. They want to devour until all that they can take is gone and then demand more,

“sacrifice yourself, sacrifice the world you are trying to build, the world you feel like you deserve, sacrifice every fucking thing that makes you who you are because I need to feel happy. I need you to suffer so that I can enjoy things. I need to broken and sore and bleeding. I need you to lose all hope. All attachment of items. All focus of positivity and prosperity will be mine and devoured by the gluttonous beast that lives in my heart and spread poison and disease. I need that destruction. I need your pain and your loss. I need to build my throne of your broken bones and hopes because that is what you do. You tear yourself apart for others; that is your nature. You sacrifice for others. Do it for me. Do it because I need it. I can’t be happy unless you are completely broken. I will give you the illusion of freedom. I will hunt your hopes by moonlight with the dagger like teeth that tears apart everything that is good. I will destroy everything you ever liked about yourself. I will only leave when you are so broken that you barely exist. Then my final gift will be that I will have caused you so much internal destruction and discord that if you are lucky enough to find someone to save you, to love you, to treat you well that there will be so little left to save, and love, and treat tenderly that they will see how much damage I have caused; the will see the wounds I have left and see you bleeding and begging for hope and love, they will see all this and you will be depleted that they will eventually cut their losses, and leave just like everyone else. I will leave you utterly devastated and torn that everything thing you try to find happiness in will break and devastate you. I have cracked your bones and sucked of your marrow so deeply that your wounds will poison everything good you ever try to accomplish or do. This is my gift; this is how I love you.”

There isn’t much left. I have a thin mask I try to keep glued on. It is thin, sunken, and burned. It falls and it slips; it does this often. I try to keep it together. I try to so hard to live with a mask of who I used to be. Of the me I loved. It slips and the pile of bones and gore that I am left with shows. It makes me scared. I fear that people will grow tired of the wounds and the hurt. Well, one person. I don’t give a fuck about most people anymore. I can count on one hand the people who I truly enjoy spending time with. Even fewer are the people I feel I love. Fewer are the people that love me. That leaves one. One that I want to spend my life with. One who is more magical than any person has reason to be. I’m so scared. I’m so scared to take the mask off. I’m so scared to show the wreckage underneath. I’m scared to show the Wolf in the White Van that has lured me into too many traps. I’m so scared that I am too broken to ever be happy.

There are a thousand things I want to tell her, to say to her, to ask her. None if it is the right time. Nothing good ever happens to me for long. I am a child in his room terrified of the monsters in the dark and the giants in the night. These are the things that people have taught me are real. I have cried for the last three hours. I have never understood cutting, but I think I do now. I want to hurt. I want to feel anything that will distract me from the world that shares my proximity. I pull my hair so hard that it feels like it will rip out, and it is the only thing that feels good.

I want to be free. I want to feel safe. I want to pursue the future I so badly want. I want to go back to school. I want to be the person who lives inside me that has hidden for so long. I love her so fucking much that I am terrified to tell her how much I love her.

The truly beautiful thing is that I would break myself for her. I would bleed, tear, break, sacrifice, and abandon everything for her smile. She loves me enough that she wouldn’t let me. I love her enough that I wouldn’t let her either.