If you're going to feel lonely, you might as well be alone. (part one)

Raging.
Thrashing.
Consumed by this thick darkness.
It pulls.
It twists.
Entangling.
Caught, trapped.
Struggling.
All the strength I have.
Quickly drained.
Eternally swirling.
Raging.
Deep emotions claw their way to the surface.
Although they were never meant to be seen.
Never meant to be touched.
Awakened.
By jealousy.
Her screams -- earpiercing.
And the darkness begins to flow.
Drowning.
The soul unsure of which way to run.
Craving the ability to hate.
Craving, raging, no escape.
This strange love pulls at veins.
Directions.
Contradicting.
Raging.
Exploding.
I want to explode.
For in all the ways we've avoided each other.
There's still something there.
A bond, deep, unbreakable.
And in searching for its name.
Friendship.
Lust.
Loneliness.
Curiosity.
Nothing seems to match.
Is this what love is?
I've always pushed that aside.
I have many reasons.
I am so logical.
Too young.
Naive.
I barely know you.
But i'm growing older.
Young, yes.
Naive, true.
But the times we've had.
Limited as they were.
They were.
And I wish you felt their power.
Raging.
Pulling.
Tearing as I see you with her.
If I could read your mind.
Would this be better or worse?
Your silence.
It's always been your mystery.
But I'm sick of searching.
Torture.
Torture.
The game is over for me.
I resign because progess is always negated.
And victory requires motion.
Take this part of me.
And do not threaten it.
I swear to never paint with oleanders.