shadowcrumbs

Tell me more.

Crappy romance. Pussy vampires. Abstinence. The ever constant damsel in distress. In other words, it is the most disgusting novel to (unfortunately) end up on the bestseller list. Why must I like it? Why must I have read the entire Twilight series? Watched the Twilight film more than once? It's sheer insanity. And yet, I cannot stop myself. This poorly written novel has caught me by surprise. This poorly acted teen drama has me hooked. I cannot erase Robert Pattinson and Edward from my mind. I cannot help but relate to Bella in every way. I fear that I am her (but with a personality).  I am in love with Robert Pattinson because he is Edward. I am in love with Edward because he is Zaine. I am in love with Zaine because he is my very own unattainable vampire.

It's all a mask. He's pushed me away to save me. He doesn't want to lose control. He doesn't want to drink me dry or make me like him.

Normality. Humanity. Hopes and dreams. Happiness. He wants it all for me, but I refuse to accept it. I refuse to back down, even though he tirelessly tries to change my mind. Robert. Edward. Zaine. An endless supply of men, all of whom I cannot have, all of whom would not have me. One exists but doesn't know I do. One does not exist, and wouldn't care for me if he did. And the other does exist, knows I exist, and doesn't care one way or the other. But then, maybe he does. He wants to protect me, doesn't he? That takes some amount of caring.

I always wanted him to write me a song, a Lullaby. Once, he painted me a watercolor landscape.

I wanted us to be in love. Together. He took it back, what little of it I had to begin with. It's unfortunate. Why, you ask? It's simple. I know I could have loved him. He wouldn't let me.

There's a curse between us. We can never allow each other to be happy. We suffer, and yet, we're all we have. There is no one else.

For a long time, I waited for someone like him. And now I'm losing him. Maybe I've already lost him. These days, I can never be sure. Alice's visions are subjective. The future depends on decisions. Once a decision changes, then the future does, too. We can never know for sure what will happen next until it is right up on us. How true.

He deceived me. It was all just a lie. And he's the one that gets to run away? I know that's what he's doing now. What he's done so many times in the past, and I'm sure will continue to do many times after this. He's the king of running away. No one can do it like he can. He's a coward and a martyr. Dying for my cause. Dying for his cause, too. He's run from me before; convinced it was for my own good. I'm more than sure he's doing it again. It's our very own New Moon.

I refuse to forget him. He exists in my memory always. There is no escaping him, not when everything reeks of him. I can't forget. I don't want to. All of my memories keep him near to me. All of my fantasies of him help me remember. I remember that I still love him, even after everything, after all that has happened between us recently. I miss him. I want to pick up the pieces and move on. I don't want to lose him. I'm not ready. I'm not ready to be without him.

He can't keep on running in and out of my life, though. There is only so much of his running I can take. Either he's here or he isn't. He needs to make up his mind.

A part of me has figured out why he's run away this time. A lyric he knows well comes to my mind: You're a drunk and you're scared. He is so damn scared. Of what, I have no idea. I seriously doubt he even knows. But I know he'll be back, sometime. He will when his days and his nights get a little bit colder. He knows I am all he has to keep him grounded. Without me, what does he have?

The thing is – he wants to save me.

Hurt me to save me. I'm sure that was his plan. Half of it worked. The other half, well, let's just say that no one can save me but myself. He, above everyone, should know that I'm trying, how I am trying.

This has slowly become less about Twilight and more about us. I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore.

I hope this doesn't end the way that horrid series did, though. Him, sucking the life out of me, and us walking into the fucking sunlight, me completely ignorant of his kind of torture. I won't be that girl. I won't be Bella. I won't be the type of woman that bends herself to be with a man. I refuse to have a metamorphosis for him. I can be without him. I don't need him. Sure, life is a little better with him, but I'm willing to bet that that will fade in time. There will be others like him. Better ones. But for now, this is what I want. I know what I want. I will not be denied. I will not let him leave me like Bella let Edward. I will not be her. I will not let him be Edward. He's enough like him already. Like Edward, he has his demons, and he has battles within himself constantly. He's ashamed of what he is, what he's become, and what he's let himself be. Unlike Edward, though, he hasn't gone against his nature. He hasn't found his version of animal blood. He still feasts on humans, even though he doesn't want to. At least, that's what I think. Maybe he's comfortable in this type of misery. Maybe he's comfortable with the thought of being something almost monstrous. Maybe it gives him an excuse to feel what he's feeling, an excuse to push me away. Maybe he's just using it because he's scared of us. Maybe he's using it because it makes him less scared of himself. It makes him braver and less aware. He can almost forget. But I can't. I can never forget.

So. This brings me to Robert Pattinson.

My recent obsession with him has been completely unforeseen to me. Never again did I think I would enter into this sort of celebrity adoration. It's terribly frustrating. But, you see, I've figured it out. In a sense, he's real. But he isn't here. He's like Zaine. He's a Zaine replacement. He replaces Zaine in my fantasies and as the object of my attraction. It's easier that way. It's much easier to try and forget. And yet, it's still safe, it's still far away, it's still disconnected. There is no proximity between Robert Pattinson and myself. There is no proximity between Zaine and myself. It's the same. It's safe. It's easier. It's a lot easier than actually trying to meet a solid person. It's a lot easier than thinking about Zaine and how everything is failing with us, how there is so much that will never be. It's easier than focusing of the pathetic nature of my being: holding out for a person who is probably not good for me in the least. It's easier than letting myself come to terms with the pathetic nature of his being: he'll never come around, he'll never let there be an us, he'll always be like this. You see, Robert is (sort of) the ideal man to me: attractive, dorky, moody, brooding, successful, older, foreign, reclusive, sexy, tall, intense, shy, not Zaine. He's an idea. And he's everything that isn't Zaine. He's fun to look at, he's fun to listen to, and he's fun to think about. He's a distraction.

How do I even begin to end this? How can I wrap it up? This is no neat package. I don't think it can be wrapped up. So, I'll end with this: the visions are subjective. They have changed with our mutual decisions. They altered almost instantly, unexpectedly. The future is forever changed. And now, I don't think I have a reason to write this anymore. He's come back to me.