You can’t fill a hole with a hole in it

It’s quite hard trying to navigate the boundaries of something without parameters

Something that doesn’t exist.

Feelings

floating without purpose.

And I suppose we’re all banging our heads against a wall anyway

Bumping into each other’s trauma

Trying to find our way back

to our own path

Trying to fit into some sort of perceived agenda

that only really exists in each of our heads

And on screens.

And so we pass it on

as a formula for how it should be

And we inevitably come flying off the tracks

In one way

Or another.

But

I thought this was a different kind of feeling

that something was different this time.

(Or is that the line I always tell myself to avoid being alone?)

It all seemed to fit

In an awkward

perfect,

terrible timing

not searching, but finding

sort of way.

And

Of course it was intense too soon

We were both lost and empty

Feeling alone,

Sleeping alone

And we each filled that gap.

And it’s right that you focus on yourself

On what you need

And I’d love that for me

But I’m not sure it’s possible

with you here

if I’m totally honest.

Because my mind

won’t focus on anything

but finding dopamine.

And I know

I’ll never satisfy that need

I know that feeling satisfied,

feeling whole

can’t exist for me

there’ll always be a chase.

But knowing

doesn’t equate to self control

Doesn’t replace the desire

to fix my brain

To make my human experience complete.

So…

How do I fix a deficit?

A chemical desire to fill a hole

with a hole in it?

And it’s hard trying to be yourself

and meet other people’s needs

When you’re simultaneously too much

and not enough

Impulsive intensity

or complete apathy.

I know,

I only deal in extremes

and I have never known how to navigate that.

Because all I’ve ever heard

is that the traits I have

are ones

that no one wants,

And they’re listed as red flags

fucking everywhere.

And this may sound like low self esteem

But I think I’m more confident in myself than I’ve ever been

I’m just circling old patterns.

And I still don’t know if I’ll ever know how to find myself in the moments

in between

In the space I desperately want to fill with the things I actually like about me

With silly, relentless, unbound joy and endless explosions of creativity.

Because here I sit

Eyes glazed

Exhausted.

Staring into nothingness

And I don’t know how to stop

The impulse

The pining

The relentless entwining

Around someone else

Leaving no space

to know

myself.