You are the one
Who never left
You are the one
Who never was
Of my mind
The only love
I’ve never known
I know that I could love you
With the passion of a thousand poets
But I keep it all to myself
I would paint you a thousand pictures
Perfect and beautiful
To capture every part of you
I would write you a thousand love songs
Romantic and pure
To let you know you are loved
But all of my words turn to dust
Catching in my throat
And keeping the words from you
So I hold it all in,
Knowing that the joy of your presence
Is better than the pain of your denial
But my love is unrequited
Misplaced and hurting
Poisoning everything between us
Because you cannot do the same
I will always love you more
Than you will ever like me
One thing I have realized lately is that while I do not bond easily with people, the bonds I do develop are very deep. I don’t get into friendships (or more) easily, but when I do I go all the way in. So when I develop a crush, it is very strong. Thus, if it has to end, it is very painful. I have to dig out a very deep and sensitive tendril that burrowed deep into my heart and there is nothing but pain in it. After a while, the majority of it is out and I’m just left trying to excise the little bits that shot off from the main tendril and dug in deeper than the rest. Sometimes they’ll wriggle and painfully let me know they’re still there. Other times, I’ll come across one and see its atrophy and remove it painlessly.
But, no matter how hard I try, each and every one of them left at least a single barb in there that I can’t get at. It’s in the deepest parts of my heart. The section I can’t cut into without destroying intrinsic parts of myself. So, they’ll always be there; occasionally reminding me of each of your faces, your smiles, and your names. Because no matter how much I hurt afterwards, I did love you for a time and I cannot forget that.
This was the 4th drawing I made one night and the first in what would be an ongoing series dedicated to my own life. When I drew it, I had just switched from Holywood to Good Apollo I’m Burning Star IV: From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness. Until now, I hadn’t ever given much thought to how perfect that album title was for the situation. In truth, it was chosen because it is a favorite album of mine and it soothes me. I draw much inspiration from it, having heard it hundreds, if not thousands, of times since I found it. It is one of the most important albums in my life, and it seemed only fitting that I would listen to it this night.
The original plan for the drawing session had been to listen to all 3 of Marilyn Manson’s albums about his fallen god in order, but after I finished Holywood, I started to think about the woman I was kinda-sorta involved with at the time and how that relationship actually existed. Being in the state I was in, actually seeing that I was not special to her in the ways I needed to be special was threatening to collapse my psyche and throw me into a downward spiral. So, I hastily changed albums and settled on something that I knew would bring me back from the brink and put me back into a safer place. It was my safey-safe. And there began my journey in art and self-exploration.
The upper right – ‘I almost lost you’ – came about from nearly spiraling when the album changed from Holywood to Mechanical Animals. When it was averted, I simply wrote the line on the page. At the time, it felt like a note to her, but looking back, I think it was just as much a note to myself. I nearly lost my mind delving into a situation I really wasn’t prepared to deal with that night (it took me nearly 8 months from that date to finally confront it and I’m still dealing with it today).
The words are ‘*MROW*, ‘My Dear’, and ‘Whore in Sheeps Clothing’, which come from “Keeping the Blade”, “Always & Never”, and “Welcome Home”, respectively. At the time, they were written to my first. They were evocative of our childishness (the *mrow*’), my unrequited love (‘my dear’ crossed out), and my eventually pain and lashing out (‘whore in sheep’s clothing’). They are floating in the scribbles, buried in them and written upon them. They were always on my mind, as the scribbles represent. But they were also shrouded in chaos.
These words were just the ones that came through as I was drawing, but the entirety of the lyrics of the three songs represented here capture the emotion conveyed within. They speak of the pain of loving and having nothing returned. Of wanting and not being needed. In “Always & Never” the Writer says ‘I’m still waiting here, my dear/For one kiss from you’. While this, to me, speaks of loving and wanting, there is also a literal interpretation in my own life: I had just one kiss with my first love, a very chaste peck on the lips, and I have been waiting for the next one for the past ten years. Not from her, but from anyone. With ‘a whore in sheep’s clothing’, I am not wanting to call her a whore. More accurately, it is about her being something other than what I saw and my inability to cope or be with what she truly was. I loved what I thought I saw, but the reality was far different from what I wanted and needed.
While I had my first in mind when I drew this, it turns out that it was quite apropos to the situation I was dealing with at the time. So much of that played out as an accelerated replaying of my first kinda-sorta relationship. It’s eerie. Even the names were similar. I cared deeply for both of them and they both came about during very chaotic times in my life. Looking back, it seems that the last one was there to close out the first. Through it, I found closure. I was finally able to put her to rest and move on from her. And while I am still working on moving past the latest, I was not crippled the way I was with the first. This time, I am hurt but I am not giving up and running from it all. I have chosen to stick around and deal with it, even if I can no longer do it directly with her.
This series, taken from a single night of drawing, was drawn with my future in mind. When I did it, I thought it dealt with who I was talking to at the time. I wasn’t wrong, exactly, I just wasn’t right about what it meant. She was there, but not as I saw her. She was a ghost reborn and she exited far sooner than thought. I think that going over all of this and finally posting it all and talking about it will be my way to say goodbye. As I lay it bare to the world and analyze it in the written word, I am seeing it in a new light. I am finding things within it that I hid from myself before. It was far deeper than I ever expected.
I showed all of this to her, but it didn’t go as planned. I had hoped to share it with her, but I ended up just showing it to her. I think that was part of why I decided to leave. It was then that I realized that things were not as I had seen; that I had blinded myself to her because I was in need of closeness, which she could not really give. I had imposed things upon her subconsciously that she could never have lived up to. For that, I am sorry. For the rest, I am hurt.
This is every night in my bed. Unless I pass out drunk or exhausted, I end up staying up for anywhere from 20-100+ minutes just lying there, waiting for sleep and trying not to think. Most nights there is at least one time in this pre-sleep limbo that I will unconsciously reach over and feel where someone would be if I were not alone in the bed.
I’ll be 27 in 3 months and in my life I have spent all but 5 nights alone in my bed. 4 of those happened just a few months ago. I’ve never slept better than I did those 4 nights, but now I feel the absence even more strongly. The time before that I was 20 and my roommates interrupted because they didn’t want the night to end yet.
That is a lot of nights alone. Almost 10,000 of them (less if you discount the times I slept with my parents or friends as a child). That means roughly 99.95% of all nights I have been alive have been spent alone. It’s a devastating thing to see out this way, really. I have desired companionship and intimacy for over half of my years, but I’ve never known it. I’ve wanted to be held, but I’ve never had it. I’ve wanted to hold, but the times I have number less than a handful. I do not enjoy being alone, yet it is all I have ever known.
As it ties in with sleep and came after drawing this picture, I’m going to add a second story to this post rather than create a new one.
Last night when I went to sleep, I ended up having an amazing and unexpected dream. In it, my best friend and I were out and about and decided to go into a porn shop (not sure why, but it seemed like a good idea). When we went in, my friend went to a vending machine to buy a gourmet dessert (dream logic, eh?). While he was doing this, I decided to sit on one of the couches that they had in the foyer of this place. As I sat down, a very cute woman came up to me and started talking with me. She had the most amazing Russian accent and we were having a fantastic time talking. I eventually move closer and kiss her chastely on the cheek.
At this point, everything changes and we are suddenly at her family’s house having a huge Russian feast to celebrate something. We’re going around and she is introducing me to all of her family and we are having a wonderful time. I remember being nervous while I was there, as though it was the first time I was meeting her family. Overall, it seemed like a grand and joyous occasion and I remember a sense of loving all around.
That sort of dream is relatively unique for me. I never get the girl in my dreams and happy dreams such as this aren’t too common either. I rarely have nightmares, but most dreams I have a very abstract or suspenseful. Because of this, it was a nice change of pace and a great way to start the new year.
I wish that I could forget you. And you. And all the rest. The memories are painful. No matter how good it was to live them, they are forever tarnished by the fact that we will not be.
I know I should remember them for what they were and cherish them for the happiness I felt, but with the life I’ve had, I can’t. No matter how good it was, we never actually were. I was only your friend. None of you could love me the way I wanted to love you and knowing that degrades the happiness that I had.
Maybe one day I can look back and remember you all fondly, but not this day. On this day I am still alone and all I have is hauntings.
You were all my mistakes. If we had dated, I could forgive myself of them. But we didn’t and I cannot. I cared in spite of myself. I always knew I shouldn’t, but that hurt little boy that imagined a new family when his life fell apart wouldn’t let me leave you be. He had to cling to you and try to force his dream upon you at my expense.
I’m sorry that I ever cared. None of you wanted of me what I wanted to give. However, I will always care. I’ve hurt myself for it, but if I don’t care I can’t find someone that will care for me as well. It hurts so fucking much, but it won’t always be this way. There will be at least one that cares. I hope. I cant think about that possibility anymore…
This was the 6th of 12 or so drawings that I did one night while listening to Good Apollo I’m Burning Star IV Vol. I. I was in a transcended state at the time and have been looking for meaning in these drawings since I finished them. I realize that this is just shoved into this post here, but it will come around and make sense, I just didn’t have a good way to fit it in to start. (As a quick note, I did go over the couple digitally. My scanner sucks and either blew out the colors or didn’t pick them all up.)
When I first saw this image, I thought I was seeing the embrace of lovers. It was beautiful, seeing them lying there together. As I continued to look on it over the weeks following its creation, my understanding of it began to change. As my personal situations changed, my understanding of it became deeper. Yes, this is lovers intertwined, but it is a fleeting moment. He can never say the second part of that lyric, the follow up to “In a phrase to cut these lips…”. The I love you will not come. He knows it is fleeting and that though he loves her in this moment, and she may care for him, it will not last. She is ephemeral, fleeting. He loves her, but she will not stay with him. So he bites his tongue and enjoys what he has while he has it. He’ll hurt soon enough, so he holds tight to the joy that he has, knowing it will sour when it all ends.
He is me and the drawings tell a story. They tell the story of my struggle with love, of all things I want, what little I have had, and, possibly, what I may one day find. It started with Anna and putting her to bed and it ended in blood. I will post it all one day, or I may add pieces of it here and there to posts as it fits in with them.