Transcription
To be loved wholeheartedly by a man made of gold while you were rotting from the inside out is to carry guilt where there should only be love. It is to conversate with the ceiling and wonder how long until you ruin something that was never broken.
I've been sick since I was eight and nothing has made it better. No therapists, doctors, medications have been able to fix the chemical imbalances that live in the empty spaces of my brain. And [snorts] the man made of gold loves me anyway. He loves me like it's easy, like I'm not something that [music] needs to be managed or monitored or held together on the days I come undone.
I hate that loving me comes with baggage. I hate that loving me comes with carrying things he never asked to hold. I [snorts] hate that some days he has to hold me like I'm something fragile when he deserves something whole. I'm terrified that if he holds me too long even gold will start to tarnish. I'm scared that something in me will rub off on him, leave fingerprints he can't wash away. I'm afraid that loving me is some kind of corrosion but he holds me like gold doesn't rust and I don't know whether to believe him or protect him from me.
To be loved wholeheartedly by a man made of gold while you were rotting from the inside out is to carry guilt where there should only be love. I'm afraid one day he will realize what I've known all along that he deserves someone he doesn't have to be gentle with, someone who doesn't come undone in his hands. But the clock's still ticking and I patiently wait for the day he sees me the way I do.