Apologies for the way I’ve been
And I couldn’t wash you off my skin, no I
I couldn’t live without you

You’re under my skin
Running in my bloodstream
These scars are the way that you loved me
I guess that you have to leave a tattoo
On my skin

What I know versus what I feel.

This is possibly the biggest crisis I face on a daily basis. Especially when knowing that what I feel wouldn’t and couldn’t make sense to anyone else. Because it’s how I feel.

To compound on that, it’s an entirely different ball game when the person that you want to feel a certain way just doesn’t. And it’s not because they couldn’t. It’s just that they don’t. And it will never matter what you do, or say. Or give. Of yourself. None of it will make even the littlest bit of difference. So you have to accept that, in spite of knowing how you feel. And feel the razor thin cut against the veins of your soul. The one that has the potential to bleed you to death. Even if you control the hand that holds that blade.

So then you realize that everyone has the luxury of looking out for themselves. Their best interests. Their desires. Their feelings. And even if you don’t do such a great job of doing it for yourself, you have to remember and expect that they always will. They always have. You’ve watched them do so firsthand for a very long time.

It’s time to put down the phone. Stop sending the novel length text messages. Stop expecting to see a response that you want. One that matches your feelings. It never will. It never has. You aren’t going to get that. Hoping for it just slices the open wound a little bit deeper.

I know we’re supposed to believe that hope doesn’t fail. But it does. Hope fails us all. Everyday. It failed in my desperation for my son. It’s failed me again in my hopes for his father. For Peter Pan. You aren’t Wendy. You never were.

You can be past a little let down. As long as you remember that you’re not dead. Even if they’ve already ripped out the pages that you were in their story. You won’t do that. You never could. But you can close that chapter and stop rereading it looking for an alternate ending. There isn’t one. There won’t be one.

The rest of your life is unwritten. Maybe you could find the courage to open yourself up to it. I so hope that one day you do.

This is my fight song
Take back my life song
Prove I’m alright song
My power’s turned on
Starting right now I’ll be strong
I’ll play my fight song
And I don’t really care if nobody else believes
‘Cause I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me