I’ve always been pulled into love kicking and screaming. Always giving something of myself unwillingly that was never freely given to me.
With Mark I saw the darkness to him, the raging storm of pulsating black clouds, roaring thunder and razor sharp, searing hot bolts of lightning. I knew loving him would consume me, toss me about helpless like a rag doll and spit me out the other side into a clear blue sky, leaving nothing behind but scars I carried only on my heart. I knew, and yet against all better judgment I fell. On most days he still feels like my other half – our souls cut seamlessly into the same shape, he just black where I am white. He is like the monsoons of my youth – terrifying, but ultimately beautiful, and fleeting. I never wanted to keep him, but his beauty haunts the edges of my visions with each loud noise and black cloud.
Mark was torn and broken like a mirror shattered into a billion pieces, sticking to your skin and bringing up tiny pinpricks of blood even as the jagged edges reflected back a kaleidescope vision you couldn’t help but be fascinated by.
It was not the kind of love I would have chosen, and it is both a blessing, to have experienced it, and a curse to be stuck with it. I believe in many lives and that I have lived many lifetimes. Our paths have crossed before and will cross again. Of this I have no doubt, no question.
Mark in music.
Used to you
Ani DiFranco
i’m still here because
i’ve got nothing else to do
you’re an asshole
but i’m getting used to you
i like the fact that
you talk incessantly
i got a thing for assholes
who tell good stories
i think that drinking
is the only thing that you do right
you’re gonna self-destruct
i think that’s what i like
you like me so you try and make me
feel like shit
i think it’s kind of funny yeah
i kind of enjoy it
if you’re gonna do it, overdo it
that’s how you know you’re alive
go ahead, take yourself a coma nap
take a puddle dive
you said, this is my bedroom window
you said, this is my view
you said, lie down here with me
and see the things that i do
like you were trying to tell me something
about the way you live
like you would give me something
if you had something to give
and for all your talk
you don’t say much that’s real
i think i know more than you
about the way that you feel
i understand your anger
and your apathy
i think if i was you,
you’re who i’d be
i’m still here
’cause i got nothing else to do
you’re an asshole but
i’m getting used to you
i could love you, yeah
i’ve entertained the thought
but i could never like you
so i guess i’d better not
