the truth

its true that i was dancing, not for me but for you. and when i sought help it was not for me but for you.
and when i felt afraid, it was not for me it was for you.
i made a projection out of you and i put all my fear and hopes there. and you carried it.
when i loved, i loved you. and when i needed care, i cared for you.
and as i held you, and petted your hair, and gazed into your eyes, i absorbed the softness of what it must feel like to be adored the way i was adoring.

they can say what they feel or think, they can project their own insides onto me until they are satisfied.
but the truth is that my problem is that i think i'm worth what i give. and only that.
somehow if i lose myself enough in giving, someone will stay.
  when doing "the work", i find the missing part is that i don't want me.
i am addicted to losing myself to people who need me. and maybe i hope they will find me.

   or maybe i don't go so far as to hope. maybe i just lose.
and so here i am again. having lost.
there were some brief time of happiness, of hope and renewal. there was a sense that i could have that heart's desire. but at the end, i find illusion. once again.
  the illusion may not lie in the loss, but in what i blindly attempted.

i always seem to be ok again. and after those years i survived with the destroyer, i know i have faced the worst beast.
  after that, i know that separation is just separation and not destruction.

      thank you.
thank you sweet zarafeh for showing me the ground, for building walls with me, for giving me a home.
   and thank you for doing it while letting me be free.
  no matter what comes after this, i will remember that.