The fact of being loved was difficult: almost intolerable. Being loved wasIf I had a nickle for everytime someone expressed confusion at my relationship with him. A goth and a hippy? Basic principles were being challenged here. But what no one saw was the uncanny similarities. Sure we were on opposite sides of the stylistic spectrum, but we both had a mutual dismay at being stuck in the senseless middle. We both lived in excess, me in color him in black. I've learnt countless things I would never had even fathomed, on his behalf, and I am confident it is true both ways. It is a sacred consumation, when two worlds can be stitched together on the mutual attraction of mystery. When two bipolar worlds join, a new, more complete one is born, and this is known as paradise. And I can see paradise by the dashboard light.
letting others feed from your resources- all you had of life was put in
jeopardy. Maybe you had to give yourself away.
Don't give up. I'm only starting to see the gravity of your situation. the extent of your damnation. In short I don't blame you for your frivolous disposition. I blame myself for not being enough to change it. That came out wrong. I can't, nor do I want to, change you. I just wish I was insentive enough to make you wish to change. Or maybe change is non-existant. I want you to grow. You're playing a static and stagnant role whilst I am flourishing and thriving. I know I'm not the same as I was when we were first in love, but the change is amplified relative your inert stance. I've always cared about you, but that too has been altered by the hand of circumstance. I've known countless feelings for you, attachment, love, lust, caring, anguish, concern. I've always felt something for you. Now it's stronger than ever before. No more silly juvenile notions of "love". I care for you like a sister, a mother, a lover, a friend. You say you don...
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