Kingdom of One

I can see it now. I can see the real him behind the mask of pretending he’s healing or pretending he cares about me or pretending he’s a fucking normal person. I can see him in pain, something so unbelievably painful, and doing absolutely nothing about it. Just hurting other people as much as possible because it gives momentary relief and avoiding it so much that he justifies it to himself. This is his cage. Years upon years upon years of lying about the reason why he hurts people, of justifying why he hurts people, of creating security around the justifications and justifications that are one tangled web of lies that he thinks hes building a beautiful tower that will protect him forever but instead he’s building a prison with no doors or windows or ventilation and he’s just choking for air inside 

He took a handful of pain and turned it into a mountain and made me climb it while he laughed. He was never going to get better, he was never planning to. He just wanted someone else to suffer for him.

Brick by brick, excuse by excuse, he built his own pain and crowned himself king of it. He expected everyone to bow to it.

I can picture him sitting on his fake throne with his pretend crown pointing orders at dolls and pigs like a ridiculous spoiled child playing pretend by himself, alone, to soothe himself from the feeling of being abandoned, by choice, by his mother. Angry at the world that chose not to love him. Okay then, he said, if that’s the way you want it I’ll become unlovable. I’ll become the most unlovable motherfucker you’ve ever seen. Can you see me now mom??

And a body grown old and thin and weary from running from the fear that she didn’t see, she was never looking.

He just wanted someone to scream at. He wanted someone to play pretend with him. Pretend to look where his mother did not. And rage at. Because rage is his last desperate attempt at a connection that simply vanished.