I was told I made someone a shadow boxer. Like Fiona Apple's song. I bow, and strut, and dance the stage. Making women scared to trust me, lest they be encompassed in my web of lies. And my web of love. They stop trusting me, but at the same time they trust me fully. They know that they can't get close to me...because that's what I ultimately want, and that's what will ultimately burn them once again. Familiarity breeds contempt. I think that's true. The closer I get to someone, the more I know their mind inside and out...the more I have problems taking their thoughts seriously. I guess that's because they become my own thoughts. Like that person is an extension of my body. Not a heart though...more like a finger. I know it's there, I move it with expert ease...but I know ultimately that I could live without it.

Once my lover, now my friend
What a cruel thing to pretend
What a cunning way to condescend
Once my lover, and now my friend
Oh, you creep up like the clouds
And you set my soul at ease
Then you let your love abound
And you bring me to my knees

I think that describes my relationships so far to the utmost. Maybe the problem with being boyfriend and girlfriend is that we are part of the same group...If we were not part of the same group, I could probably handle the fact that they will not speak with me again. But I have to see them every day. This is painful...like opening a scab, even though you know it's going to scar if you do. But you have to do it, because it's right infront of your face. And it's not necessarily my pain that I have to go through. It seems that I never feel the pain of a break-up. I see their pain though. In their eyes. I know the road that they walk, and I can almost feel the gut-lurch that is associated with the knowledge that you can't have what you desire with your entire being.
There seems nothing that I can do to bring them solice. I draw them still, like flies. Even though they try to leave...they find boyfriends...they leave the area. They always come back, like the moth to the flame. Sometimes when they get burned, they don't fall. They keep on flying, smoking...then they come back for more. I feel like a panther that has just realized that the boars he eats feel pain while they are having their entrails removed. And whatsmore, the panther actually feels remorse. But he still has to eat. He still has to live.

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