words before coffee

im glad.
im very glad i have people in my life to remind me.
to remind me of promises ive made to others and to myself.
actually, im very glad i have people in my life that remind me to take care of myself and be good to myself.
i always joke i need a mommy or to take my meds, but yesterday was proof for both.

the conversation i went to bed with was along the lines of the above:  take your meds, be good to yourself, focus on your own mental health.

i had this nasty habit of surrounding myself with others that needed fixing so as to avoid fixing my own self.
when my demons proved to bear too much weight, i was left with nothing more than to find my own way.
and i have been.
ive met some really great people along the way that don't judge me for my issues and really encourage me to be a whole, well thought human.

but then there's this one small area.
this gray area.
this gray area where i know what real color it is but just wont admit it.
this gray area where i like to dip my toes into and get bit by angry little creatures.
it's as if i thrive on the rush of the pain.
the stinging sensation that courses through my body.
the dull ache inside my chest that somehow also feels as if ive swallowed a lead balloon.
the knowing despair because of the already known.

i  need to put this to rest.
i started to.
i really did.
but you.... you always lure me back.
there's something about you that i believe in so much im willing to throw my own sanity away just to wait around to see you thrive and be well.
i don't know why.
dear sir i wish i knew why i couldn't throw you out with the rest of them.
im told to hold none of your words as valid or true and to wait for the action to surpass the verbage.
for some reason i find myself scrutinizing your choice of words, your flow and pattern of sentence structure.
i dissect each syllable til i am left holding boxes of letters that simply make no sense.
hieroglyphic intricacies i know nothing of.
still i wait.
stringing words together before ive had my morning fix of coffee.
trying to remember all those words over coffee.
and in the morning haze of fatigue and no caffeine i wait.
i wait to see if you even make a momentary gesture before i tell you i cant anymore.
before i tell you this up and down roller coaster,
this cyclical pattern with twists and turns...
well....
well it makes me sick and dizzy and i cant anymore.

dear sir i can no longer put you first.
this want to see you thrive and be the amazing man i know you are is not enough to sell my own self.
your lines of needing help for months now are nothing more than that....
lines of a script where the leading man is ending a dramatic scene.
that's all this feels like...
one dramatic scene after another.
no storybook ending.
no third act twist.
just gritted teeth spewing out lines.
i believe in you far more than i understand why.
i sometimes even believe you although your eloquent and full speech alludes to a cover up.

so should my day end and yours just begin and you still havent found the words to reply to the previous day where i just want to know what the hell we are doing here... what you want from me and what you THINK i really want from you.... well then...
well then, dear sir, i can only stare at this blank wall that has waited for your brush for so long before i feel foolish and hang pictures in its stead.
you are full of empty promises.
you are full of broken.
you are full of broken that you choose not to clean up and let everyone else step on the shards and then tell them that it is much too risky to enter instead of cleaning up the god damn mess.
my calloused soles can not take any more punctures from your past.
put on your workboots sir, grab a broom and get to it.
it is far more daunting to stare at remains than to get in there and start the somewhat tedious process.
sometimes you miss and dont get it all either but....the point is that youve begun.
youve begun and there is room again.