Why make love so complicated?

I wonder why people make love so complicated. I do it too...sometimes but I don't understand why we do it in the first place. I feel like some people make it look like rocket science but at the same time if it wasn't as hard to understand then maybe we wouldn't find much of an interest for it...right? It sure is annoying though.
In love, I was always told or at least I always thought that people were supposed to respect each other and value each other's needs and wants. I thought that love was something you shared with that one special someone and it's when you risk even showing them your flaws and having that other person accept your flaws and caring for you regardless.

Lately...people have been proving that it isn't always like that.

This Past Weekend

i did it again...i thought that with time i wouldnt have to or feel the need to do it. but i did... im feeling incredibly useless and powerless now...and you know whats the worst part? i liked it...i missed it... i wanted it more than anything. i mean..i tried so hard to avoid it... tried to distract my mind, tried focusing on others, i ran out of the house a couple times, i even took late night showers and baths and yet theres no way i can escape its calling...

it feels so good.. seeing it touch my skin...it smells amazing... its intoxicating... almost as intoxicating as my ex... heh.. its funny...he was my drug...i wanted him all the time... even when i hated some of the stuff he did or got upset with him or by him...i still wanted him...more than anything... now its lke this cold slim nd sharp thing has taken his place...in some twisted way...im happy it is. ive wanted to let him go for the longest time... and even though i still love him and crave him every second of the day...for the moment that my skin splits its like i dont feel that need...that want...that love.

ive experimented too.. no not drugs haha. but ive tried different parts of my body... its almost as delicious as my forearms but its like it brings more ecstacy to the moment. my sides are a bit scratched up....not as bad as my forearms but the second i felt it...the way it slid about my waistline...the icy shiver it brought to my chest....to be honest.. i moaned a little..

as i heard the echo of my moan...my memories started to flow back.. the happier ones to be exact... i was lying on my back... the love of my life was resting beside me and it was the middle of winter.. we had just finished playing and i was looking up at the stars; thanking each one for allowing me to feel that way.

just as quickly as that memory came it left... after a couple seconds i realized my tears were soaking my cheeks.. could i really be crying at a moment like this? have i gone insane? i just cut myself! i just pressed a knife into my skin! and im crying because i miss the one boy that made my world worth while? really?!

i sliced my skin in a couple more times, each time let my tears slow and brought me back to the present. my anger simmered down and i realized the water was mixed with a soft red. i stared at it for a bit... my mothers face appeared in front of me and i quickly held my nose and push my head back into the water. i stayed under for what seemed forever.

i felt calm... my hair felt soft against my cheeks and whiped around as i continuously pressed my head furthur and furthur into the bottom of the tub. i didnt want to breathe...i didnt want to take on the world... i liked being by myself...feeling like no one could touch me... like the water was infinite.. like the elements were watching over me... after awhile i needed oxygen... as annoying as it was i let my body rise up along with my head and it was over... it was all over for those few moments and i felt good...i felt like i could sleep again...i could finally sleep without the thought of him.

Gobstopper thoughts.

It’s summer. The sun is shining brightly. The leaves turn different shades of green according to the clouds that float beneath the sun. The sounds of this quiet place…the rustling of someone on their bed in the other room, the lawnmowers cutting the sweet smell of grass, and the rushing of cars that had begun so early in the morning.

 My room is but a quiet place… my thoughts are like tiny dust particles whispering in my ear; begging me to pay attention to them. My window is like a camera, at any moment the picture could change, sometimes becoming more beautiful than the last. The breeze that comes into the vacancy of this miniature world is from the distant vent that I wish I could close…if only the breeze came from the locked window of longing.

It’s a dangerous place in here…this is where dreams, thoughts, wants, and need encircle each other causing one to become dizzy in their own reality. It becomes even lethal when having to stay in this room for six months. They call me a smart survivor…but inside I am hollow and the monster has made himself comfortable in the depths of my memory.

I may have won one battle but I have yet to conquer the toughest one yet.