Everyone told me how beautiful you were. But I failed to grasp what a mess you were and still are. I mean I knew your life was complicated, nothing about you was ever simple and nothing about us was ever easy. But I guess that’s what I loved about you, you made me feel alive, and everything we had and everything we were I had to work hard for, to prove to you that I was worthy of you. Even though I probably never was. You were a beautiful mess and I wanted more than anything to fix you, to make you whole again. I guess I never did grasp that in doing so, in attempting to anyway, you had the capacity to make a mess out of me.
I’m not blaming you for everything that went down and it isn’t your fault, because that’s just life, you feed off it and shit happens. But I don’t think you’ll ever truly lay hold of what it did to me and how it will continue to define me. When I look at him I am reminded that he is everything I’m not, how much better you two look together than we did. I guess I now constantly live in fear that no matter how hard and how much I can love someone, there will always be someone better waiting to snatch it away from me. Because of us, because of you, I am unable to feel worthy, worthy of loving anyone, worthy of being loved. Because I’ll always feel like they’re holding back, waiting in the clutches of hope that there’s someone better just around the corner. I’ve never felt like I deserved much in life, I always believed that things are earned, never deserved, but it’s completely another thing to feel like you deserve nothing and your efforts to earn something couldn’t earn you a single grain of sand because you are that unworthy of anything.
You were a beautiful mess and all I wanted to do was love you, even though everyone told me I shouldn’t. You were a beautiful mess that I wanted to fix and instead, blinded by your beauty I let you make a mess out of me, unlike you, I am not befitting of any beauty. A mess is all I am now, with no one to fix me.
