Menteur...

What do you see when you see me? I did some reading on mythology today. I read about the Phoenix. How it would create it's nest and home and then burn it to ashes only to start anew. This stood out as profound to me. The idea of once a sense of home was created it was to be destroyed so that it once again it could be brought to life, as though giving it a sense of purpose.

How many times have I destroyed what I had, only because I could.

I felt that several months ago this way of acting had left. That the obsession for pain was gone. However, I don't think it will ever really leave. It's always there, I feel it almost like a magnet, a temptation to just play with it. What can I create to destroy? So many sketches, so many paintings, so many lyrics, I've penned with no other intention than to watch it burn, crumble, and fade. Even if I was a good painter I could never sell my art. To give someone a piece of myself is disturbing, and they would never understand it.

At times the only thing that stopped me from drinking was the fact I had no money. I even reasoned with myself that I could afford one drink, but really that would never be enough. So few people have gotten to know me. I've kept it this way for a reason. How many times can you really share yourself? If you see me cry once, it has an impact, if I cry all the time it's unimportant. I spent a great deal of time with a person who knew very little about me. I got a sick pleasure out of the fact that he would never know my thoughts. Never pick up on my lies, and never see the person inside.

I think my fear is that once you really know me, and you can't love that person, than what greater rejection is there than that anyway? At least when I was with someone who had no clue as to who I am, the relationship in of it's self not working couldn't be because of who I really was.

It was because of the person I wanted you to think of when you saw me.

Or maybe they're the same. A duality that I would have to live with.