This is real, this is me

g

And frankly I am just... blown away.

Mass mess collision strewn across, all over the portraits of my feelings. Where do you draw the line between right and wrong? Between respect and righteousness? Where do you deem the proper line between what is acceptable, excusable and what is an abolishment of right? There are lines I do not cross, they may be warped, accustomed to the style of my life, may not be as honorably erected as yours. But honorable, I held you on the highest pedestal of the distinguished honour. You have fallen. So have I. 

The pieces are on the floor for us to view. Bloodied, trashed, pulverized pieces that echoes the crying of trust and hope, from whatever future that might have happened, splendidly. It has been days, I am a little more steady, a little more of will and guts. But the fact remains that the chaotic distortion, destruction, has taken place, and there is nothing more than an acute, tiny chance of turning back to how it was. We have both made our sorry beds. For our own craze induced pathetic reasons. I do not know where this will end up. 

But know that I am angry, I realise so are you. There are bullets of questions blasting around in relays all over my head, it is only to the commendable facade control of ours, possibly, to have kept civil, me more than you, to have lowered our heads in silence and moved. The Art of Restraining. Whenever the thought collides, I am bombed with a bubbling burst of anger. There are lines you do not cross on my book. And yet again, there are lines I do not cross on your book. I do not know which is worse. To lose a little trust, or to lose a lot. 

Can we move past this, and carry on? The possibilities and accumulation of memories and what ifs will inevitably haunt, for a long time, especially given the close berth of our social structure. Perhaps I am still blinded by the folly of the whole circumstance. I've made wide notes to see the bigger picture, a different perspective, a reasonable view. My war front, walls and forts are fabricated once more. You have taught me to not accept bullshit, and yet here we are trapped in the contradictory webs of our own spinning. 

The one conclusion that we've made, is that the time frame should be utilized to full impact. Maybe we will use this to shut down and concoct our great escape. My thoughts are still a mess/ I hate my forts/ I miss you.