Already Gone
I'm jumping on the bandwagon, but a bit too late. It doesn't matter, I needed to know that I could connect with the reassurance that I wouldn't.
I'm tired, and I'm done. I'm done lying and pretending, at least to myself. It's something I've known for a while now, and I don't have the energy to facade anymore that it's not there.
I hate dishonesty, but I can't tell the truth. I don't want to hear the words out of my mouth. I don't want the life, and I refuse to live it. I'd rather live the lie. I'd rather pretend to be something I'm not, even to the extreme. No one knows, not really. And I want it that way.
It's all about what I want. Because the longing in my heart and soul tears at my mind until I am bruised and bleeding and how can no one see my wounds. How can no one hear the screams in my head, the echo of my falling into this hole, the dripping of my broken heart lying on the floor for everyone to step on. And they do. And with each step is another wince of anguish, another cry emitted from my cracked silent lips. And if they only knew.
I won't live that life. No, I can't. I have no desire to, nor does it feel natural.
So I'll go on, and you won't see me. You'll just see Her, someone you think you know but really you don't. You could never understand, because I've made a decision that will never be followed, a truth that will be covered with shams and efforts to tweak it.
I'm exhausted, with trying and failing and arrogance and the realization.
I want to go back to lonely oblivion.
I'm tired, and I'm done. I'm done lying and pretending, at least to myself. It's something I've known for a while now, and I don't have the energy to facade anymore that it's not there.
I hate dishonesty, but I can't tell the truth. I don't want to hear the words out of my mouth. I don't want the life, and I refuse to live it. I'd rather live the lie. I'd rather pretend to be something I'm not, even to the extreme. No one knows, not really. And I want it that way.
It's all about what I want. Because the longing in my heart and soul tears at my mind until I am bruised and bleeding and how can no one see my wounds. How can no one hear the screams in my head, the echo of my falling into this hole, the dripping of my broken heart lying on the floor for everyone to step on. And they do. And with each step is another wince of anguish, another cry emitted from my cracked silent lips. And if they only knew.
I won't live that life. No, I can't. I have no desire to, nor does it feel natural.
So I'll go on, and you won't see me. You'll just see Her, someone you think you know but really you don't. You could never understand, because I've made a decision that will never be followed, a truth that will be covered with shams and efforts to tweak it.
I'm exhausted, with trying and failing and arrogance and the realization.
I want to go back to lonely oblivion.