It's not you, and it's not me; it's quite definitely us.

I'm quite convinced that this mood I've been in has been transforming any and all emotions that I have into anger. It is 2:28 in the morning, and my brain will not shut down because as always, there are still things I want to say. There are still questions I want answered. Still this beating fury inside of me that refuses to quiet my thoughts.

Hence the title of this blog. Yes, it's supposed to sting. No, you don't have to keep reading. I just have to keep writing until some sense has come from this, and my mind becomes more willing to shut down.

We've all met them. Those contagious people that are no good for us. Maybe family, a friend, a lover. Everything screams that it's wrong. And yet, we remain. Time and again. Waiting for a miracle. For it to either stop hurting, or them to get it right (and my use of right here is relative, it only means our expectations for that person).

Don't expect. Rule number one of loving humanity.

I'm such a rebel. Such a rulebreaker.

Such a heartbroken mess.

So really, it is you. But it's only the you that I think I need you to be. Only a perception of what I think is best. Of my answers. Of my solutions.

But it's also definitely me. The me that cannot let go of what I want. What I desire. Which quite simply, should be simpler.

But more than both of these, it is simply us. Separately, everything works. But together, everything falls apart. Or breaks. Or tarnishes. We can't ever say what we really think, because that would mean admitting that we simply cannot live together.

Until now. When I am done.

and on and on and on.

Where am I. How did I get here. Why.

My life revolves around questions. Because if I have answers, then I can find solutions and ways out. But recently, I can't find answers. I can't even find the right questions. And when I do, I remind myself to forget them so that I don't have to worry about being wrong. Which I'm almost certain that I am. Because sometimes the answer is not knowing the answer.

Pause. Let me wrap my head around that last statement. Everything about it screams that it's wrong. And yet, it's the only thing that makes sense right now. Because I can't have the answers that I want.

So much for being logical, right?

Okay. So where am I?

I'm back to where I was before I left. Back here. Back to where hurt is found. Where it grows as time passes. Where it multiplies and transforms itself into new, undiscovered things. I am back to where everyone told me to run from.

Running. I really love to run. But I'm tired of running. I have to solve this.

How did I get here?

Remember that door I told you about a year or so ago? The ugly little door under the cherry tree? I found it again. Stumbling through old thoughts. Old fears, hates, angers. There it was. Small, dusty, and seemingly meaningless. When I opened it just a little, everything was different. But was it really? I think it was just my perspective. When I looked at it this time, it wasn't terrifying anymore. Just simple. Petty. Silly, if you will.

Why?

Because "the heart's memory eliminates the bad, magnifies the good, and thanks to this artifice, we manage to endure the burden of the past." Thanks Gabo, couldn't have said it better myself. That's just it; the past was forgotten (temporarily) and I let myself...let myself.

Now comes that terrifying question: was it right?

I look at Autumn raving all around me. Turning, falling, going, being. They know they die just to live again. I'm going as if I know what's on the other side. I don't. Well, I do. I know that this doesn't work out. Because it never was meant to in the first place. Why is that the one answer I can't accept?

It's valid. It's sound. It's proven.

I want to snap out of this. I want to open my eyes and see clearly again. It's like I only have one contact in, so half my life is out of focus.

half of me can see myself making every possible mistake. While the other half (which is accustomed to being in focus) pretends it doesn't know it's making mistakes.

I don't know.

I won't ever.

I do.