The PSYCHO Path

I met a guy once who brought me back to life after I'd been abandoned by someone I trusted. He (and many other equally open and talented people) inspired me to sing, to write, to live every moment. That was his purpose in my life at the time. A few months later, I met Blue. When I met Blue, I was open to new experiences, but not open enough to trust anyone or really let them into "my world." Oddly enough, our worlds (Blue's world and my world) were about to collide and intertwine so perfectly--as if we'd always known each other. It took him months to convince me that I should tear down my emotional walls and "let him in." Eventually, he suggested we get an apartment together. He made promises. He begged for my trust. He calmed a storm that had been brewing inside of me for a very long time. He won me over. I tore down my walls. I let him in. I trusted him and gave of myself completely. Sure, people think that there is only one way to really give of yourself completely--and that way, of course, is sexually. No. If there is one thing I have learned, it's that sex is only the most superficial way to give yourself to someone. When you give of yourself completely, you lose more than your dignity or reputation. You lose a part of yourself. Blue hurt me in every way imaginable for 6 years. Verbal abuse, psychological abuse, physical abuse--you name it, he tried it. I was like his very own little buffet of emotion to eat off of whenever he got bored. Why stay with him, then? Why put up with all of that? Stupidity, I guess. Hope, maybe? Love? Unlikely, it would seem. When he wasn't hurting me, though, he would look at me like I was the most amazing person in the world. He would hold me sometimes and I felt safer in his arms than in anyone else's ever. He made me laugh even when I didn't want to and he made me want to try harder every day to be the very best version of myself that I could be. Our worlds became one world--a family. Then, one day I came home from work and all that was left of him was a pile of garbage for me to clean up. Garbage=Me. No warning. No letter. No goodbye. No explanation whatsoever. Since he's been gone, I've been thinking that the very best thing about him is that he lacks the capacity to feel anything. He doesn't feel empathy or sympathy, regret or even love. He can say he loves, he can even show what he thinks is love by projecting how he feels about himself on others, but he can't feel it. He is able to exist without being burdened by messy emotions. I used to think that was a weakness of his, but now I think it's a super power. The only reason my life sucks as much as it does right now is because of the stupid jail of emotion I've been living in. I've been a slave to my own feelings for as long as I can remember and I can't do it anymore. I can't care anymore. I'm just...blank. Some of the emotion is still lingering, but for the most part, I'm starting to look at things in a whole new light. I'm disconnecting. I'm watching my life from the sidelines now. In fact, I'm watching the whole world from the sidelines now. I'm not just locked down again. I'm not even fucking home. Happy Trails.