Sometimes we do stupid things. Humans I mean. We do things like fall for the wrong people. Care about people who barely care about themselves and can therefore hardly find it in them to care about others. And we care about them even when they disappoint us and frustrate us and worry us. We care about them even when we know they're so sad and broken and barely anything but a fiction. And even knowing all this we let them break our hearts again and again and again.
Dear readers, please forgive your sweet Dormouse for being so shallow and susceptible to flights of fancy. A dear friend of mine has been in a dark place (admittedly not darker than usual but for some reason it is getting to me more) and I'm worried for him. I wouldn't like to be so presumptuous as to attempt to cheer him up, I know how terribly I hate it when other people attempt to make me happy when I'm barely capable of picking myself up off the floor. However, I love him and I want wholeheartedly for him to be okay.
"Be okay." What the fuck does that even mean? Be happy? Be...normal? Behave in the societally appropriate manner? Most days I can barely fucking understand how to feel okay. How could I presume to ask someone else I love to feel in a way I don't even know how to feel? And of course I worry about my growing dependence on his morbid sensibilities. Today he spoke to me of a love of a certain drug and the way he purred about it was so enticing. I could feel myself back there in my dark room, my friend's hands on my arm, injecting liquid joy directly into my veins. I could be happy listening to him tell me about using it, making me crave it, until it drove me to insanity. Until all I would want is to beg him to kiss it into every inch of my skin. This is dangerous. I absolutely cannot allow him to drive me to distraction in this way. But his words are...so lovely. It hurt my throat to tell him to stop. The words had to be ripped from me. All I wanted was for him to go on and on and on. Problematic relationship much? Oh well. He's really a lovely gentleman when you let him be. As long as you don't mind the touch of the morbid.
well heck.
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