You can say “fuck him” all you want in your own head, but secretly you know you are your own worst enemy.
Since you’re already a slave to the sins of the past why not start there to develop your strategy for self destruction?
Go ahead and assume every shitty thing that anyone’s ever done before is about to happen again, so you can be sure to keep your blocking arm out. Keep joy at a healthy distance. Smother out any happiness that may be right in front of you because you’re too fucking scared.
Lord knows you can’t risk another human ripping out what’s left of your heart and devouring it right before he leaves. You can’t risk being hurt…again.
So yeah, convince yourself it’s better to feel nothing.
Hold in everything until the words fall from your eyes in salty droplets as he peacefully sleeps next to you…oblivious to his crushing power.
Always remember the Karmic kicker, though; You’ll never be able to give yourself to another if you’re mentally keeping him at Heisman length.
You’ll never revel in the glory of companionship. You’ll never have the unadulterated feeling of attraction or affection. You’ll always ensure everything falls apart before it can ever really begin.
You will choose the Omega to this Alpha.
I know you want to be safe, but stop cock-blocking yourself. Let the past be the past and unwrap this present of the present.
Who is this woman I’ve been flirting circles around for how many cycles now?
She isn’t the woman I used to know — convinced loneliness was the hand Fate dealt, romanticizing herself, and forever standing guard at the gate of her Sacré-Cœur.
She’s fiery like the cosmos, the young and burning blue center of the entire system. All other bodies revolve around her, gravitating inward. She’s not another object simply existing; She’s become the sun.
She’s comfortable. Flushed and purified of her previous sins and willing to accept a new truth from a bearded savior. Now only memories of the forgiven pave the way for a new trespasser.
Like a new crush, I’m obsessed with this woman; Her laughter could saturate every cathedral rafter with silvery delight. Her hips sway to a silent song with every step. Her azure irises fixate on the heavens hazed by Saturday night festivities, ravenously consumed alongside the second Christ. Coming again.
Who is this woman? I’m not asking about her magnificence… That’s been evident all along, but I don’t believe I’ve ever met her before… this woman “improved” by the presence of man.