Castle in the clouds

It’s that cry for help that still goes unanswered, since childhood. No one is coming to save me. So I save me by whatever means necessary.

For years I’ve subconsciously created coping mechanisms that continuously evolve to shield myself from predatory people, behaviors and situations. But mine own evolution can’t always keep up with my naivety or my romantic notions of needing to be loved. 

All anyone ever gives is half, and I find myself alone in nightmarish situations. Leaving me with no other choice but to become a monster. Survival mode will do that to you; maternal instincts too. 

I’m sure there were people that tried to love me. Perhaps one or two that even tried to understand me. But after everything, it’s too much work to differentiate between people’s motives of who actually loves me and wants the best for me and who is using me and just saying they want the best for me.

Does it even matter that I don’t know how to let anyone love me anymore? Does it matter that I would rather just be alone than to allow myself to trust anyone again? I know how to pile the bricks high with mortar and build until the sun struggles to trickle in. It sounds bleak but it’s better than giving anyone else a chance to destroy what little peace I have. And learning to love myself is still new. 

It’s not an excuse, and it’s not an explanation. It just is. I can’t take any of it back and I’m not sorry. I did what I had to, to survive. Granted they weren’t ideal choices, never mind circumstances. Right or wrong. I’ve been held accountable. 

In hindsight I thought choosing the bravest and boldest of people would make a difference. I believed they would help me tear down those walls, so I could be loved. Time and again I’d find that once anyone reached the top, they found themselves afraid of heights. So they’d get what they want and didn’t care about the chaos they left in their wake. After-all, it was just me, and they all knew I’m a true survivor. 

I don’t know what’s more pathetic the fact that literally every man I have ever loved has found a new way to destroy me or that I was complicit in allowing it to happen because I loved them.

Anyway here I am piecing my life back together again. And while maybe I am dirt poor, I have become a master builder. I know there are no rules in architecture for a castle in the clouds. And at least I know I’m the one that can build it. 

I save me. I always have. I always will.