The Place I’m Going
Written April 20, 2011
there’s a place i go, weekly, at least, where they call my name and pull me aside and say, “you don’t have to look; we just have to know.” and so they know, but who can be concerned when i’m “perfect”? they said it. not me. you said it, too. not with that word, that lie, that concept i resent, but you thought it nonetheless. so in the place i go, daily, where they know my name, and yours, too, this fallacy continues. i don’t need you to stop it. i don’t need you at all, even though i trusted you first. you don’t give a damn. you never did. so why should you care if at the place i go, once a week, where i always look, they will know i’m falling, (continuously, obsessively, dangerously), and still i won’t want to be caught? you shouldn’t. so why should i, in the place that we go daily, habitually wander past your door (perhaps the long way to mine), and hope that you’ll come out, and catch me anyway? i shouldn’t. ‘cause i don’t need you to prove to me that i don’t need to disprove the lie that’s destroying me, even though i’m destroying myself to get there.