What's the meaning of us
I look at you and I want to kill you.
You are so far so deep inside me that I don't know if it is possible without dying along. But I have to fucking try.
You have the potential to be great and we could too, but you might destroy me before it.
You don't trust me. And maybe you're right, I don't either.
But what does it all mean? I don't know or care. Do you?
If we name it then it becomes something. Things don't need us to exist but we need to name them to make them actually exist in our world of futile definitions and searches for certainty. But I want all the possibilities that come with not knowing. I want it all.
I want to die and be torn apart. I want to be fulfilled with your fears and sorrows and also everything physically plausible.
But I hate being this vulnerable.
Because even though I want it all I'm also afraid. How do you do that? You make me sound so crazy. And I hate myself for letting you make me work so hard. I hate myself for wanting this, for wanting you. And I hate that I might love you. Because, once again as I already said, we can be great and rise so fucking high
and I'd hate to fall without you.