.blame.

He is all of them. Does that even make sense at all?

I mean, he is them in so many ways because I look at them through the scope of how I viewed him. Time and again he was lying to me. He was beating me with words and actions and that’s how I see them. They are lying to me. Even those little lies or the ones they never actually voice, but are lies in the act of avoidance. I see him in them, and that vision of him causes me, in the deep down parts of who I am, to hate them. I don’t blame him, he was just really good at these spider webbed out stories. Like when he was married and then he left her, he told me “babe, you and me forever”.

I admit it. I admit. I felt guilty for it. But now that I have admitted it, it’s in the past.

Bastard. He just creeps around. I mean how do his footprints always retrace my laid out foot printed pathways? He is here now; he is in the places of my mind and heart where he shouldn’t be, maybe cause he was the first time lover of yours truly and maybe that’s why he inhabits me in such a way. He is the earth shattering, heart pitter pattering, first love that destroyed [created] me. I am who I am, in many ways, because he loved me. Or I loved him. Or, I don’t know.

Love, what does that mean anyways?

I don’t trust you. I don’t believe that you will ever be able to love me, because of him. And that’s the past I have. I was his lover, he was mine. And now I don’t even trust myself as far as I am reaching. I am nothing beyond where I allow myself to forgive [be forgiven].

I am nothing.

I am my beloveds and my beloved is mine.

Who is that, who will call me worthy?