textbookescapist:

The more you fuss and criticize and downplay every single decision I make in the game, the worse I’m going to play. All I ever get from you is negatives. Negative words, negative tones, negative attitude and looks. I hate it and it makes me hate you. The harsher you are to me the more I want you to pack up your junk and get out of my apartment. You don’t get to tell me how I use my electricity, or do my job, or sleep or decorate. You sure as hell don’t get to tell me how to play a stupid game. I don’t care how much better you are or think you are. I don’t want to fucking hear it anymore. Leave me alone.

He has been doing this to me for days and every time I try to suggest a solution that caters to me as well as him, he puts it down like it’s nothing. He doesn’t commend my thinking or my ideas, he just pretty much says “No that won’t work; that’s stupid.” I’m almost tired of League of Legends. I’m almost tired of seeing him every day. I’m definitely tired of him taking over my sleeping spot when he stays over. :\

I dream
A thousand dreams at a time
Every last one
Gone at the moment
When I wake

A thousand dreams
Of wild adventures
Of beautiful romances
Tragedies
Comedies
Horror-terrors

I dream
A thousand dreams at once
Every last one
A version of
What might have been

Of today
Of tomorrow
Or of yesterday
Sometimes new
Or old replays

Sometimes I’ll see 
Us
Others, he or she and you
Furthermore, them or it
Else-wise, just me

Scant-ways view points
Pivoting camera angles
Unfamiliar bodies and senses
Some realistic
Others the obvious dream

But a thousand dreams
A thousand miles
A thousand lives
A thousand stories
Aren’t comfort enough

I lie awake
Before the dreams come
And I wish to sleep for one night
Only to wake up a thousand years from now
Or a thousand worlds from here

Or maybe even both.

To see you
Was like seeing
The sky for 
The first time in my life
Seeing water
After generations of drought
Seeing the earth break
Into spring after an endless winter

To know you
Has been knowing
The sky like I have 
Known it all of my existence
Knowing water
As it has always been a part of me
Knowing the earth
The way I have always lived on it

To have you
Would be
To have the sky
At the tips of my fingers
Water forever contained
In the palms of my hands
The earth wrapped
In the embrace of my arms

But there is my limit:
The sky too far
Beyond my 
Reaching fingertips
The water slipping
Quickly free of my cradling palms
The earth too great
And wider than my waning embrace

Nonetheless I
Will keep on
Always reaching out to
The sky
Filling my hands with
Flowing water
Opening my arms to take in
The earth

I hope one day you will be
My sky, my water, my earth

Everything

Will the sky
Always be 
The farthest
The greatest
Limit
Toward which you can reach?

My dearest,
My darling,
Can there be
No distance beyond
To make your goal?

And
For what it’s worth
Am I to blame 
For this
Short-coming?
This wall
That keeps you holed up
In place?

If I am a hindrance
Hesitate
No longer!
Real feelings,
real love:
It increases one’s reach
Demolishes limits
Tears down walls.

And if this feeling,
This love does
Nothing
To that extent
Then it is not real
It is not love
If so pursued.

My dearest,
My darling,
I want you
To reach out!
Beyond the sky!
Don’t allow it
To be
The farthest
The greatest.

Let there be no limit
For you
Deserve to reach
Toward anything
Everything you want
Everything you’ll ever want…

Always
Beyond me.

I wish I could do the things you wish I could do, 
and I wish your words didn’t do what they do to me; 
but the things you say, 
they choke me half to death with the fear,
the excitement, 
the joy that they bring to my heart. 
It’s like my very soul is aflame; 
can’t you, too, see the bright light that you’ve brought into my life?

“I’ve never felt this way before” seems like a cliche jumble of everyday vocabulary compared to the things that flow through my mind, but oh, it’s useless to try putting them into words. I think, though, that I might try anyway, to give you a glimpse of my heart and soul.

“This is all too much for me” is what I hear; echoing, echoing, echoing like sound bouncing off the walls of an empty room. 

You’re amazing, even if you don’t believe it; the best and the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. My heart races every time your name appears on the screen of my phone; I think of you, and it’s like my common sense has flown the coop. But you’re so vague with words, so careful, so cold, so sparse; it hurts. Maybe I’m just crazy.

“I love you”; no… I don’t think so; it’s too early for those words; they’re too strong, too strange; they seem foreign if I add your name at the end. All wrong, all wrong.

But then, what can I say? “My affections for you outrank any I’ve ever felt”? Too wordy, cold; robotic, even?

I’m bad at this; no experience. Everything I ever thought of love was but a dream, an illusion; have I been hallucinating all this time? Maybe I still am, if that’s the case.

I lose sleep every other night, desperate for an exchange of words between the two of us; the nights between, I fall asleep early waiting for your reply. I sleep in longer than I mean to, every morning. But even then, with extra sleep, I feel as if I haven’t gotten any rest at all. I don’t think it’s supposed to be that way. 
At least, for now, I have nothing to cry about or feel sorry for. 

Ah. I think I’ve found the perfect phrase. Maybe. It seems like it might be.

“You’re dear to me.”

Yeah. That sounds about right.

Little warm body
Curled up by mine
Content, comfortable
Beauty, to me,
at it’s greatest heights.
Little warm body
full of sounds,
vibrations, happiness.
You hold to me with no prejudice
Only the promise of dear company
A mutual relationship 
Against loneliness.
Ah, you turn your tiny head
Up to face me
And teeny paws stretch
To interrupt m—
My typing. A plea for praise and petting.
And then an attack
My swift fingers captured
In temporary play
Oh!
You’re wonderful, sweetheart,
With your little warm body
Stretched across me.
I wonder at you.
Beautiful feline, only still a kitten,
You are infinitely, awfully endearing.

When I think
of you
my heart sinks
No longer is there
despair
or sadness
Only painful
disappointment
Dejected feelings
Almost tangible
A shriveled texture
Disgusting
and pitiful
But real
and therefore respectable
However dismal
Still able to cope
and 
Move on

Great and strong. A mighty formation cut out of stone by centuries of weathering. Water and wind that have passed by at various speeds and in various amounts. Miles of interchanging layers speak volumes of what I have seen. What I have heard. What I have touched.

And here, on this chilled eve, I experience new sights, sounds, and textures. Some that sound and look and feel that same as others I have known, but others different and exotic.

What is it that scrambles with great urgency at my face. My thousands upon thousands of eyes and nerves are reamed with discomfort. Pieces of me fall way with the sliding of what appears to be human limbs. My many hands try to make places for this human’s feet to take hold. Maybe I can push it up. My view is blocked. I will have to refer to this one neutrally for now. 

Farther away from my crumbling edge, I feel another’s feet. They are stable, not sliding, turned and walking away from my little struggling companion. More of my face crumbles away, and I feel that the human who gripped me with a savage want of life has forgotten to keep fighting. I taste betrayal in the air.

But, ah! There it goes again. The small thing grabs hold again, kicks at my face and pushes up. I do not blame it, and I wish I could cheer it on. I only fear that if I opened up to give praise, I would ruin all of the human’s focus. It is crying. I feel the sad water on the plateau at which it claws. Maybe, even without my interference, the human feels that it is a lost cause. 

It calls out, shrill and desperate, a high tone. This one has a gender to me now. And she is so sad I cannot control my crumbling pieces any longer. More of my face cracks and slides away beneath her and I am so very sorry.

The walking-away human is beyond me now. The crying-for-help human is falling now. See, there she goes. And I see that she is more delicate, smaller than I presumed because of my size. And she lies crumpled up on the floor of my canyon, far from my face. I despair over the fact that I could not help her. I could not push her up. But I am assured that one day she will be able to get back up and climb my face again. 

The plateau above awaits her. Maybe so, too, does the walking-away human. Maybe the walking-away human will become the walking-back human. And maybe that sad water will become joyful water. And maybe she’ll be helped up by someone more capable than the face of a cliff.