I will shelter you
i love you. i breath you. i see you. forever.
I'm selfish. I'm rude. I'm mean. I'm careless. I'm pathetic. I'm all of that in a package. I try to change for the better. I try to smile a lot as well, but I can't find myself to break a really bad habit. I wish I could paint you a picture to tell you how I really, really am inside; just a person trying to scream out something. I want to punch a wall every time my mom's voice tones down into negativity about how I treat my life with such abuse. I'm eighteen. I know I'm going to college next year, a junior college to be exact, because I don't know what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. I feel like I've got two options &they both fit perfectly in place in my hands. Should I pick the left, or the right? The right, I guess, being what my mom wants me to be &the left being what I want to be, which is still undecided. I feel like my mom's got a whole thing planned out for my life, but I know she only cares &wants to support me.
I want to be a failure in life. I want to fail & not graduate. I want to throw my gown on the floor &my cap on my bed. I want to leave the shelf, where my diploma belongs, dusty. I want to mope around eating bags of chips all day. Maybe even watch some good cartoons at the same time. Could I be the failure that hangs out with you?
I'm going to make it big guys. Next thing you'll know you'll be wearing the shirt I designed, or the color shoes I picked out for this new seasons line. Maybe you'll see my art work being placed on a bilboard giving you the address to my museum. Or will you be holding the issue that I'm chief editor of? Fuck it... I'm going to wake up from those dreams sooner or later.
I'm a workaholic, bitches. I need money. For what? To spend in high charging sushi restaurants. To buy shoes I will never wear. To be able to pull out a grand &won't know where it goes the following week. I work a lot... for nothing.