to love for the hope of it all

i will always leave. i think people always assume i won’t because i try so hard. but there’s nothing i fear more than never feeling loved. one thing i can never refute is my resilience. reinventing myself is just another pattern in my life. a rebirth. a new start. it’s the only thing i’m great at.

the advantage when you’re somebody like me is that you can transfer that need to be cared for and loved onto virtually anybody. you can transfer all of the energy you’ve put into a person or people onto anybody else. i’ve never struggled with that.

i always lament about how people leave me, knowing full well that i do the same. i give up on people. i decide i want better. i attribute not changing because they know who they are (sometimes at least) as a defect and make the decision to leave. i see the best in people and when they don’t live up to it, i bolt. i’ve been unsure about a.b.s. for months, if you put my romantic feelings aside. if you cast my stubbornness and insistence aside, i haven’t been sure ab out him in a long time.

i need to be better so that people like me, i always have had to. other people don’t see this need. other people are fine with who they are. whether or not i think that’s a good thing for them in a long time. if people want to stagnate, it’s their right to.

a.b.s. will not choose me. i will have to let go of him. it doesn’t matter that he’s the only person who’s understood me in the past year. he’s not mine to dictate. it doesn’t matter that i think he could be more, if he doesn’t want to be. such is the case for any of my friends. i’m allowed to just leave.

///

i force myself into these corners in my life where i must stick by my decisions or simply walk away. usually, sticking by them includes an element of luck or good fate that never really occurs and thus, i walk away. i leave. i reinvent. i bolt.

i thought i had stopped relating to ‘the bolter’, and have purposefully gone months without listening to it. the words still echo in my mind.

With a quite bewitching face
Splendidly selfish, charmingly helpless
Excellent fun ’til you get to know her
Then she runs like it’s a race

[…]

And at first blush, this is fate
When it’s all roses, portrait poses
Central Park Lake in tiny rowboats
What a charming Saturday
That’s when she sees the littlest leaks
Down in the floorboards
And she just knows she must bolt

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when i get a final inkling that people don’t care about me and they might leave, i must leave first. i keep giving a.b.s. the option to choose me because i want him to so badly, but he wont.

i didn’t want to relate to the tortured poets department this year. i thought the songs related to my breakup with james. turns out there’s a lot more to come. old habits die screaming.