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It's this feeling that I can never seem to put into words. It's also this feeling that I need most to be able to write about. That's why it keeps coming back. When I'm able to write about something, it eventually gets better. I have no way of completely putting into words what it feels like. It's extremely frustrating.
I suppose it's a bunch of little annoying, depressing, or aggravating things bunching up into a big ball of paper. Then it's thrown right into my face, gets stuck there, and I can't stand it. I'm constantly mad - usually for no important or obvious reason. I'm mad because I'm imperfect. I don't have all the features of a normal, social human being. I don't have all the features of a genius musician. I should be better than this. At the same time, it's my struggle to make people find love in someone who's different. Just because I don't act like a teenage girl doesn't mean I'm an idiot. I think it's a better thing. People don't understand. I hate people. My own grandmother thinks I'm an idiot. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not stupid.
I feel like I keep using the few strengths that I have to hide behind.
You think you're better than me. Everyone thinks you're better than me. You may be the slightest bit better in the simple things, but when it comes to complexity, you're out. Sure, you can do all the simple functions of a calculator, but that's it. You can play easy things that people like, but when it comes to the real music, you run.
You blame it on your dislike for the music.
Your dislike makes me want to quit the one thing I CAN do.
If the one and only thing I can do is the single most UNOLVED thing in the world, then why do I do this?
No one likes real music.
No one likes me.
I'm not changing for them. I'm sticking with my love.
I suppose it's a bunch of little annoying, depressing, or aggravating things bunching up into a big ball of paper. Then it's thrown right into my face, gets stuck there, and I can't stand it. I'm constantly mad - usually for no important or obvious reason. I'm mad because I'm imperfect. I don't have all the features of a normal, social human being. I don't have all the features of a genius musician. I should be better than this. At the same time, it's my struggle to make people find love in someone who's different. Just because I don't act like a teenage girl doesn't mean I'm an idiot. I think it's a better thing. People don't understand. I hate people. My own grandmother thinks I'm an idiot. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not stupid.
I feel like I keep using the few strengths that I have to hide behind.
You think you're better than me. Everyone thinks you're better than me. You may be the slightest bit better in the simple things, but when it comes to complexity, you're out. Sure, you can do all the simple functions of a calculator, but that's it. You can play easy things that people like, but when it comes to the real music, you run.
You blame it on your dislike for the music.
Your dislike makes me want to quit the one thing I CAN do.
If the one and only thing I can do is the single most UNOLVED thing in the world, then why do I do this?
No one likes real music.
No one likes me.
I'm not changing for them. I'm sticking with my love.