Destructeur

“Destructive forces are dark, foreboding, but ever so addictive.”


I suffer from spiraling into a deep abyss of self destruction. I am destructive only to myself, and no one else around me. The reason why I’m so self-destructive is because I cannot handle being alone. I can’t handle all the beauty and pain at once; I can’t handle all the happiness and sadness all at once. It is a curse.

Have you ever loved someone so much that you’re willing to perish with them? I happen to know exactly how that feels. Daniel does not like it when I start talking in dark, destructive ways like this but I can’t help it. It’s my second nature. It’s like a familiar friend, calling you to come closer, and just when you aren’t careful, it’ll bring you to your own demise.

If there’s a person I should be afraid of, it’s myself. I’m not afraid of anything or anyone else but definitely my absolute will power in getting things done whether they’re pure evil or just self-destructive. I may not show that I self loathe a lot, but the fact that I’m destructive to my ownself, that speaks volumes of it.

Have you ever loved someone so much you just want to be in their body, so  you can explore each blood capillary, each nerve ending, each stimuli, just to know them a whole lot better? That’s how I feel about Daniel. It’s almost as if it has become this unhealthy obsession with wanting to be inseparable since I’m about to face the imminent loss of someone so precious, so important to me.

With each day that goes, I find myself becoming a little bit more insane. I imagine his cancer cells as pizzas I can pick off and eat away if I were this tiny person in his body. My breaking point is becoming so low that almost anything can become a trigger instantaneously. I can just sit down in silence with him and feel the painful sensation in my chest telling me that this might be the last time we get to share this moment together.

Everything is too precious to let go. Every single kiss he gives me, every single hug he gives me, every single touch, is documented very carefully in my little black journal. It gives me life and also gives me pain at the same time. I’ve never felt so conflicted about documenting such moments. Some days I feel that certain moments should be left as it is, to leave it uncaptured; some days I feel that certain moments should be documented in severe detail as to not forget when the time comes.

I’m now sitting in a puddle of tears because the pain of typing this out hurts me so much. I don’t know what to do.

I love too hard, too passionately, too deeply to just watch it all fade away.

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