I hate what you see in me.
(Because what you see in me is the worst in me.)
And i hate what you bring out in me.
(Because the worst of me is alive & cancerous anger grows in me.)
And every way your words turn you’re mirroring me.
(Because the Me you see is a reflects a Shadow Me, hurting & not healing Me.)
When you resent me, I resent me–even if I am proud of me.
(Because I hurt you hurt myself crimson tears and blue blush blood surge through my veins in cold sweat I want to scream but chocked-silence,voiceless, hate love, shout, skittish, fear, knowing, direction, love, fear, knowing.)
And it is strange, I know, but I am coming to find that my
pride and resentment in the equation of Us are parallel lines.
Us is tearing me apart.
Because i love you more than anything else,
but, to often, my love is
a million dollars in a bank account, untouched.
What good is love without expression?
The last thing I want is to see how you see me, cringe, and run, run, run.
I want to work on me to be a better me.
So i can see the pride you see. So i don’t have to overcompensate within me.
so i don’t have to attention seek.
I want to work on my shortcomings, face and embrace and work on the for me.
But in the meantime, you need to help me- be patient, understanding, and supportive. Kind in helping me see what I am not aware of and gentle in delivery. From what you tell me, I think you think I am a witch. Sometimes a goddess, otherwise, a needy witch. And I can’t sleep while you sleep soundly.