Presence perplexed by perception

I smile and pretend like the worries of my world are trivial petty problems compared to the sheer depth of hell you’re going through. I put myself on the back foot and let you lead me into the maze of your existence, even when my own path is carefully constructed to be clear of any debris – walls tend to keep the trash out. I allow you to suck me into your turmoil in an effort to pull you out of it. I try to find a grasp onto reality in your wild misdirection, try to defuse your private bomb. I shout out loud so that you have a guide through the pain, I keep quiet and stand to one side as I let my heart live inside the rust of all your rain.

 

I give and give and give and give with no request to receive. I keep a watchful eye as you let your hurt consume you and spill over into the limits of my life. I am talented at bending without breaking. At the very least, I can break and take it with a smile. I do not expect you to understand, I do not expect you to care. I sympathise that the storm you are weathering is all consuming and that your energy is focussed on digesting and internalising your anguish in an effort to be whole again.

 

I do all this knowing that it is to my detriment. I know that there is no happiness to be found here. I do all this not in some outpouring of unrequited love for you that makes me pathetically weak to resist your particular brand of charm. In fact, there is little about you that is charming right now, and ever so often my patience wears thin. I want to leave you behind, let you stew in your own self loathing and not have to deal with this.

 

Yet I am not doing this for me.

I’m doing this for you….

Ok, perhaps some of it is for me. For unbeknownst to you, I have my own demons that haunt my epicentre to the point where the flame of my existence can easily be fuelled and fooled into a wild fire of uncontrollable proportions, destroying the remnants of the good in me that is fighting the ungrateful battle of trying to keep me at least six feet from the edge at all times.

 

I have learnt how to live comfortably close to the edge – I daresay it is the only home I know. It is in this comfort that I find the courage to stand next to you at the cliff of your own contention. I will not falter and I will not move, regardless of what you want, for you are a guest in my realm now. I have to admit that it is nice to have company for a while, but as dusk eventually turns to dawn, you will find the sweet strength of a renewed spirit build up inside of you and you can and you should step just a fraction back into reality daily until you can walk away with your head and your heart once again healed, albeit not untouched by the weariness of your temporary weakness.

 

If I may, I ask but a small favour in return.

Do not try to save me, do not look back and do not create a false nostalgia about our time together. I am not in search of a knight in shining armour, and you are bruised and battered, but do not stay that way, move forward and leave your troubles behind. Do not try to create something where there is no soil to plant the seed of a new beginning. I never asked to you save me, for although you may misunderstand me to be in some delusional denial, I am not. I don’t need saving, for I am not lost nor broken.

 I am just not what you expect me to be.

 

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