I am a narcissist and a liar. I am a deeply flawed man. I am insecure and jealous. I am not always good to the men I love.
Because I am afraid.
I want to be good. I want to be loving and kind. I want to feel safe and I want to make you feel safe.
But I fall short.
I am a man of illusions. Peter Pan in Wonderland believing in my wounded poetic idolatry.
A thief and a cheat. I will fuck all your exes and then accuse you of looking at the wrong man. I will use our “open” status to excuse all my possessive outrageous behaviors.
But I will love you. I will try so hard to be everything you want me to be until one day I am no longer there. Just a wreckage of the man I once was: shivering and pathetic and devastated.
And then, in the darkest moments, when I am finally alone, sobbing on the floor, like when I was a junky, an alcoholic, when I have lost everything once again, this time to love, to my toxic behavior, to this new manifestation of my illness of self-obsession: I will turn to the only place I know: and I will stand, forever trembling before the only god I have known: a god who loves us all: flawed and monstrous and ugly in our abject beauty.
And I will try to find a way to love you like that: not just the good and the beautiful, but the ugly and the bad.
So when you find yourself there, alone in the most horrifying way, full of shame and regret, remember this and know: I am right there with you.
Forever human. Forever flawed.