Control

There are moments so deep and so real and so full of light i cant imagine ever being sad or hurt. Moments when i can see the trivial nature of fleeting emotion.

There are moments when all i want is to show you that i can still remain strong and logical and in control of myself.

Control.

It is a sickeningly sweet lie that covers me in its false comfort. Tells me that i did. I finally found someone who could love me. Who can look at me and say with certainty,

“You are not too much for me. You are not a burden. You are everything.”

Someone who can listen to understand and learn all the things about me that i have thus far failed to learn myself.

Someone who can be gentle, someone with the ability to hold me even in the darkness when i cant see the brightness of the stars in his eyes but who reassures me they are there.

Control is a lie i tell myself, that i will not fall too deep into you, that i will not lose myself, that i wont place all the gunpowder of my fragile heart inside your outstretched hands.

Hands that made me feel so secure and safe. Hands that the other halves of my broken mind visualize as hands that can hurt me.

Control is the lie i tell myself to hide the projections i place on others. On you. To hide the way i want to hurt because i am hurting.

Its a lie i tell myself that i will be bigger than my sensitivity. Sensitivity that i feel like just gives a bad rap to my superhuman ability to feel everything.

And everything i feel in you is a reflection of me, and if i feel me is ugly, then many of the facets of those reflections will show me rage and degradation and carelessness.

Control is a lie i tell myself to build a dream i can believe in. A way out, a way to survive and thrive and teach my daughter i am more than what i can give in these shifting moments.

Control is a beautiful and wistful longing that i have to develop into a sentient being inside my aching bones. Aching from the despair of wanting to be heard and understood but most likely from a vitamin deficiency because i cant really ever eat that much.

And nothing ever tastes good, it feels too heavy inside my hollow belly, and i cannot control that. I cannot control the way callous words wound me so deeply and i cannot control that when i found love in you, all i wanted to do was carve out a safe haven for myself and my dying soul inside your rib cage and sleep there curled up in the warmth of your laughter and the unparalleled rhythm of your breathing. The smell of you is a reminder to me that i will never have control.

Control is the lie i gift myself when i feel like my world is shattering apart and i have nothing left to give. Its the lie i feed my mind to overcompensate for the feeling of not being good enough for anyone, and sometimes of saying too much.

Its the lie i tell those around me, feigning stability when it feels like quicksand beneath my feet and i just want to surrender to the sinking gravity of my despair.

Control is what i wish i had when i first met you. That ability to control the flow of information. The ability to control the effects of the burning static i always feel at the sound of your voice. And the way you make me feel alive.

Control is the lie ive taught myself to believe in to give you the room to decide if you really want me as your burden.

+Lj

Published by

lauryn jean

Poet, Writer, Artist

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