So many scribbles, notes, and pieces of me laying around waiting to be put down here. My fingers stay shriveled from all the showers – “I’m not going to tell the story the way it happened, I am going to tell it the way I remember it”. Scribbles, remember those? A few minutes of focus, trying to inspire one another. I know you meant well but your disbelief that you could come in like a wrecking ball and incur no damage was delusional at best.
“All of his questions, such a mournful sound
Tonight I’m gonna bury that horse in the ground
‘Cause I like to keep my issues drawn
But it’s always darkest before the dawn
And it’s hard to dance with the devil on your back (shake him off)
And given half the chance would I take any of it back? (shake him off)
It’s a fine romance, but it’s left me so undone (shake him off)
It’s always darkest before the dawn (shake him off)” – Florence + the Machine
She tells me not to overthink, if someone needs to ask if they are a narcissist then they are not, but still you haunt me. I plan for many moves and the light in my eyes seemingly returns although I do have regrets, I just couldn’t trust you – I don’t know if we are fortune’s fools, I know you saved so much of me but murdered other parts. Great expectations – I make new friends and my old friend creeps back in but I remain in a lockdown of sorts, they say it’s darkest before the dawn and I make love to the light, giving it the best of me, saving the torment for the darkest nights, dragging my visions of you into the ground and slowly leaving the devil on my back behind.
-B
