Swiftly Told Tales (Taking Prompts/ Requests!)

All But Me (Missing you) - Poem

You'd call me stupid, I'd call you crazy, and that was that. You were crazy and I was stupid.

I can't make you love me, and neither can you. Though I can't do this anymore, I'll regret everyday away from you. I can't tell you anymore lies, can't have you patronize me, make promises you never plan on keeping. Lying to you that I forgive you time and time again, when no, no I'm still aching. Yes we've had many great times, many more than the tracks I tread trying to find you, but as time has gone on and you've gotten more and more complacent with your love for me; I can't fight this fight any longer. I'm sorry, I just can't. I'm tired and angry and hurt, reminded more and more often to the adding list of the times I needed you, but you weren't there.

I'm physically assaulted, trapping myself in my room for two years writing my problems away and all you can say is I'm acting unhealthy. I'm young and should be working, making friends, should be providing a competitive competitor for you to compete with. Not sleeping fourteen hours a day, riddled with nightmares and anxiety. Unable to leave the house I'm trapped in for more than once a week.

You didn't come visit me in this city I've been enclosed in during that time. You claimed you couldn't book off days with work, or you didn't have the money, the time, the energy.

You didn't when I needed you the most.

I didn't want to talk about it, not after you were so clearly done with the topic. Not after I'd tried to open up to our mother about it, only to be brushed off as a bad first experience. Something to get over. Not a big deal.

So I moved. Again. After we had together, then you left, then months later I followed. Again. 400k away to a father who had forgotten how to be a dad. An authoritarian, unknowingly growing cancer inside his body. This place where I'd spend two years with yet another person who would yell and berate me when I couldn't muster enough energy to clean up after him. Who would vent to me about every aspect of his unhappy life, claiming the same thing as you did when I tried to weakly speak of my sadness.

He just didn't know how to ask questions, to keep promises, to listen and talk to me after a full day of work and recuperating weekends.

He has become better now. Cancer, chemo, surgeries--things I was there for and you weren't. After he had yelled at me, shouting out every trauma that could've caused me to become as I am. Set me into the worst anxiety attack of my life, he had called mom, threatening to take me to the hospital for my behaviour or to move out. The later being a common constant, only actually kicking me out once similar to when mom kicked us both out after learning we were moving away. But different. Very different. Very alone in a city I didn't know, late at night wandering around trying to call anyone who would house me for a few nights. Uncle did. The man who likes to hug, who touches and creeps with slimy hands.

You left our home town, the province, the country, the big chunk of land, to a place of British politeness and posh presentations. You'd keep me up day and night, I'd wake up day and night, just to speak with you. I'd tell you how much I missed you, you'd echo it in return and add that you never wanted to come back.

But you did. You came back and I went back to the city of Him to be with you. You went through depression, your own kind of horrid assault, and I was there for you. I fought for you against mom who didn't know or understand that mental illness is as real as snapping your leg. Even more so debilitating. I never denied your need to talk about it. To vent. To be heard.

You got better, thank god. You made it through and I'm so proud of you.

But now you've got a boyfriend, a likeable asshole in my books. Treats you like you're his trashy princess all in the same swoop. He doesn't know you like I do, love you like I do, and the way he speaks to you gives me all the proof I need to not like him. So I don't. You hate me for it. I try to get to know him, I lie to you, I cry for you, I'm mad with you, I apologize to you.

You don't see what I see. He doesn't see what I see.

But it doesn't matter. No longer I try and withhold flinging shoes at innocent walls because of you. I remain alone, getting better by the day, once clawing my way from the cave of depression I was thrown in, to taking breaths and breaks as I sit at the top ledge. I'm developing into everything you said I should be. Working. Healthy. Making friends. And now also done looking forward for you. I'm done losing you.

I'm looking for me. My wants, my needs, my pains and stories. You with your jealousies and me with my anxieties, we go separate ways now. For now, not permanent. But I'm done losing you to things that don't matter. Until you can miss me like I've been missing you, until I learn to live for myself, until we can meet halfway, I won't be seeing you. I'm done and so are you. I'm done chasing you.

Find me here when you have the time, the consideration and understanding of just how special being a twin can be.

_________________________________________

Theres a lot of angst here. Guess I wouldn't be me if there wasn't.

Random Question: Whats been your most painful loss of relationship?

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