Honest I did
July 05, 2002 @ 3:54 p.m.
My words were saved for you, I thought perhaps you would like to have them someday as my effort into you. But we haven't spoken for so long, and I know you don't think of me as often as I would hope. I know the little tendrils of friendship we had once are slowly becoming unbraided. I know you will begin to forget me very soon, if not already.
But when I sit among flashing mortars and gasping audiences and tear up because all I can think of us your arms around me, how am I moving on? Therea re so many others I could be direction my attention to. Why still you? There is nothing but pain and disappointment you could bring me.
I am looking for just a little less salt to pour into my wounds. A distraction from you would be more than welcome.
Then I see all those others, and I know again why I must worship him from afar. I look at loving someone and realize that there's far too much broken in me to ever give this to someone else. I refuse to be selfish and hand over such an imperfection. All those I dream of deserve so much better.
I only wish I could start over.
There's no way I could ever ask someone to accept my poor excuse at human. I find so much that is filthy in me. It's repulsive to walk through a crowd of girls and find every single one has better features and personality than I do.
I hate myself. I have stopped praying for beauty, for a sense of humor, for overall sweetness. I will never, never, be a sweet girl. Sarcastic, sardonic, cynical. Never sweet. And I have stopped praying for happiness, for silence, for someone.
I have stopped praying altogether. I believe no more. Not to say that I ever did, but irony, not God, becomes me.
There is such sadness in me, but I have no wept for so long. Someone stole my self-esteem and now it seems my tears are missing as well. There is very truly death inside my walls, and I don't blame those who refuse to enter.
Phantoms breathe at will here.
And so even though I've given you up tonight, there is no promise my fondness for you won't return come morning. I have a difficult time breathing without my mind jobs.
Stupid stupid stupid.
Would you face this and not shudder? I'm afraid I've given everything and it's been returned to sender. My reasons for not wanting to move are dwindling. Shuffling of the feet towards the inevitable will soon commence.
I thought I would be happy here.
Honest I did.
<< | >>
- - March 22, 2010
always the same - July 01, 2008
b-a-n-a-n-a-s! - December 25, 2006
elementary again - October 29, 2006
I don't like you, but I love you - October 03, 2006