Crazy

It’s crazy how much bad I will put up with just for that one “ I love you” those few hours of laughter, like someone cutting a thick woven rope. Every harsh word, every projected hatred, a strand is cut, and just when I feel like the rope is severed, that one “ I love you “ shows a string still attached.

Fighting and fighting for what? A future of fighting? The times the seas of disagreements are tranquil cannot even calm a mind THATS stuck on expecting the next storm. When storms come by as often as they are it’s hard to find tranquility in soft waves. You don’t know when that wave will become a riptide.

Poison is what fighting truly is. A happy day is nothing when the seed of past bitterness is growing inside. Always on the defense, offending in moments where there’s no battle. How can a war end when both parties are defensively on the offense?

How much will you risk for that “ I love you”? The strands are nearly gone, and you don’t know if it’s the rope of yourself or the rope tying you two together. Those three words can make you forget hundreds of bad ones. But those words, those bad words, aren’t always forgotten. They are just buried. You know the next wave will uncover all the shells of fights underneath that thin layer of sandy peaceful ignorance.

When things are perfect, you won’t forget the storms. How could you? Spending days, weeks, and months strategically planning your defense becomes a habit. It is doomed. You knew that from the beginning, but you stay.

You can say you stay for hope, but you stay for you. It’s a new form of getting hurt the way you feel you deserve. It’s not knives or razors this time. Somehow it hurts more. These scars don’t fade as the old ones did. You deserve this. You deserve to hear what you tell yourself in the mirror. This way, you don’t even have to look in the mirror.

How many squalls, and bloody battles will it take for you to realize you hate the sea and war? There will be no changes unless you make them. You don’t deserve the constant preparations of battle. Just because you aren't bleeding doesn’t mean you aren’t killing yourself. There is no happy ending and you know that. You will stick around and anyone that knows you or relates to you won’t hate you for it. They won’t discriminate. They understand.