Helter-Skelter

I feel I owe you an apology.
What for?
Well...
Is it for what I think, but don't say? Is it for not saying or just for thinking? For thinking that maybe you wouldn't like what I think, if I were to tell you.

Is it for not thinking, for just doing, pleasing myself? Running down that hill and leaving you to walk down. Happy to do so, but maybe not?

Why do I put myself in your mind when I do not belong there?

Is that it? Is it because I didn't wash the dishes exactly as you would have liked, were you there to criticise me. As if you didn't have anything better to do with your time than criticise me?

What did I ever see in you? And you in me? Is that why they call it the Demon drink? It damns you to an eternity of misery? Self-erasement each day to show you how I need you, want you to want me, want to be happy. Happy at the kitchen sink even. Here I could be happy if you weren't here with me. In my mind. Keeping me company. To show you care, you're always with me.

I'm not sure the others understand. They should and some must do. But not the ones who say they do. I know they don't. It's not so easy to say, to talk about, so they can't know, can they?

I am trying, you know that. You tell me, you show me you know. And you understand, I know you do. It just feels that you don't sometimes. Sometimes when...but I understand that. And I can't complain. I know you mean to show you care, it's just I don't understand your ways. I'm still new to you.

But you've given me a home and I know how much worse off I'd be without one.

We've never really touched, maybe.

No, I say, you've never hit me. You never have. It isn't that. Whatever you want to call it. It may come, though. That is a fear.

And then I'll want to escape. Escape you and know, if nothing else, that you don't know yourself. Maybe. But it'll be others saying that, making the excuses, or explanations. Usually.

Time to go.

I devote myself to you, and hope you notice.