A COMMUNAL EXPERIMENT IN SELF CURATION

a Soul Project

archival : leaving with a sour taste in my mouth :

I've fucked everything. And I don't even mean that entirely.

Dylan, you have some serious demons. You can't take criticism; it shuts you down and flares you up. Do you know how volatile you become? You shake and tremble, defenses assembling, and all the while I need you back here in reality. I try to break through. Do you see the fear plain on my face? It grips me as you slip away and I scratch at your walls for purchase. But you're gone, barriers encircled. From the other side you shout back at me, your defenses shuddering.

"I haven't done anything wrong, all I've done is love you!"

I cry and cower in the shadow of your anger and frustration and wonder who hurt you so badly for your vision to turn so red. You have loved me, yes. Love me now. Listen to me. Where did the loving part of you go? I need a partner. This shouldn't be happening this early. I can't do this again. I'm scared of the demons inside of you. I'm scared of how they overtake you and how so suddenly your compassion evaporates.

What am I getting myself into? If I move to be with you and you love without listening... it will feel like dying, again. It feels like a life of being alone. Help me, I beg. Help me by being my partner, my friend, not just my lover.

Oh yeah, and then there's that. I've lost another friend. I've lost Tanner. I'll spare the world more moping.

Is this what Dylan is destined to be? Something's telling me I should be alone.