Lilacmoon
Beautiful moon, take me away.
- Sep 23, 2020
- 1,308
Sorry. I debated for a while. But I guess I'll just do it. I don't care anymore. I need to get it out somehow. This isn't going to make sense to anyone and no one should read this embarrassing drabble. I just want to scream at the void and pretend it matters for my own silly ego.
_____________________
Love.
Stupid, stupid love. It's an ideal. A wish, a hope. Something I've craved my whole life. Something I always wanted. Maybe it was selfish of me. Maybe it was idealistic. Narcissistic, even.
What kind of love did I want? What kind of love did I hope to provide?
Unconditional, Endless Devotion.
I wanted to be able to give my every breath, life, and soul to someone. To live for them. To be theirs, to serve their wishes, their dreams, to put their needs above mine. To be a slave to them, to make them happy. To devote each thought of each hour to that person. To give them everything. What did I want back? Selfishly, I wanted to be someone's favorite. To be someone's first choice, all the time. To be the one closest to them and their soul, and for my soul to be closest to theirs. Didn't have to be romantic. Could have been familial. It didn't matter. I lusted for this kind of connection, this feeling. I think I based every decision in my life around clinging, desperately, debasing myself, enslaving myself to the wills of others.
Tossed aside. Used. Unneeded. Unhealthy. Clingy. Overly attached. Too intense, too dramatic, too everything and not enough "not me". Who would want someone like me? An emotional vampire, draining from everyone. A fraud, a liar, a fake that only pretended to be devoted, pretended because they wanted someone to love them.
I deserved it. I deserved it for wishing to touch the moon and make it mine. To reach for something too far away, too big, too majestic for someone like me. An ideal like true devoted love? What kind of silly joke was that? I didn't deserve it. But in my pride, thinking that I was good enough to be loved, I was given proper punishment. Hurt, abused, abandoned, broken. But I can't help but keep hoping. Keep praying that maybe I could reach the moon. Without my search for this moon, I am empty and without purpose. I'm not even alive, not in any meaningful way. Dusty furniture. An unused glass. A doll in an unopened box, forgotten.
I don't deserve to gaze up at the moon. I never had the right. Why did I think I could? Why did I think I could ever truly matter on the level I wanted? Why couldn't I have just been born normal, someone with average hopes for love, and average expectations for love. Why did I need to be someone who needed to own the moon?
Broken, unfixible, a princess of lies, unwilling to settle for anything less than the royal charming she set her eyes on, no matter how unrealistic, how stupid, how undserving she was.
I have to die. It's the only way to stop being the liar princess. It's the only way to stop searching for the moon. I'll just sleep, and the pain will finally end.
_____________
Sorry. I hope no one actually read this rant.
_____________________
Love.
Stupid, stupid love. It's an ideal. A wish, a hope. Something I've craved my whole life. Something I always wanted. Maybe it was selfish of me. Maybe it was idealistic. Narcissistic, even.
What kind of love did I want? What kind of love did I hope to provide?
Unconditional, Endless Devotion.
I wanted to be able to give my every breath, life, and soul to someone. To live for them. To be theirs, to serve their wishes, their dreams, to put their needs above mine. To be a slave to them, to make them happy. To devote each thought of each hour to that person. To give them everything. What did I want back? Selfishly, I wanted to be someone's favorite. To be someone's first choice, all the time. To be the one closest to them and their soul, and for my soul to be closest to theirs. Didn't have to be romantic. Could have been familial. It didn't matter. I lusted for this kind of connection, this feeling. I think I based every decision in my life around clinging, desperately, debasing myself, enslaving myself to the wills of others.
Tossed aside. Used. Unneeded. Unhealthy. Clingy. Overly attached. Too intense, too dramatic, too everything and not enough "not me". Who would want someone like me? An emotional vampire, draining from everyone. A fraud, a liar, a fake that only pretended to be devoted, pretended because they wanted someone to love them.
I deserved it. I deserved it for wishing to touch the moon and make it mine. To reach for something too far away, too big, too majestic for someone like me. An ideal like true devoted love? What kind of silly joke was that? I didn't deserve it. But in my pride, thinking that I was good enough to be loved, I was given proper punishment. Hurt, abused, abandoned, broken. But I can't help but keep hoping. Keep praying that maybe I could reach the moon. Without my search for this moon, I am empty and without purpose. I'm not even alive, not in any meaningful way. Dusty furniture. An unused glass. A doll in an unopened box, forgotten.
I don't deserve to gaze up at the moon. I never had the right. Why did I think I could? Why did I think I could ever truly matter on the level I wanted? Why couldn't I have just been born normal, someone with average hopes for love, and average expectations for love. Why did I need to be someone who needed to own the moon?
Broken, unfixible, a princess of lies, unwilling to settle for anything less than the royal charming she set her eyes on, no matter how unrealistic, how stupid, how undserving she was.
I have to die. It's the only way to stop being the liar princess. It's the only way to stop searching for the moon. I'll just sleep, and the pain will finally end.
_____________
Sorry. I hope no one actually read this rant.