wary.
"You make Europe sound so boring," he said to me.
I was aware of it; how I was talking now, my present nonchalance, compared to my excitement in describing it to others.
Not nonchalance, but wariness, not sure of how much I wanted to share or show my feelings.
Mostly because of what hurt me: the shitty goodbye, and the reappearance that seemed like nothing had happened, and the superficiality of the conversation. The whole of it all.
What could I say?
Europe's fucking amazing, but I'm afraid to share that part of me with you when you'll barely open up to me; something's different, something's changed. Where did you go? How can one act like nothing really happened and how half way this is.
Again it repeated, out of all the nights I was home, how many did one come to things. And the goodbye again, so lacking. you'll be fine. Not the point, not what friends say.
Indifference will allow me to watch myself, right? Playing passive like you will keep me at the edge, despite how much I hate it, not pushing, having this? Makes me wonder why you even want it.
And the part of me that's just always so open was eager all the while to explode about everything I've experienced - what it's like, what my Master's is like, but I kept it all away.
A shadow? I know you're in there, maybe you're just as wary as me. Or afraid, like I am, but I'm not really, just met by a wall where it's like I never say anything, and that, I think is the most trying of all. And I catch myself initiating feeble conversation. Why? Why do I feel I have to prove, and try for when I've already lost in some sense?
Bother. ;(
I was aware of it; how I was talking now, my present nonchalance, compared to my excitement in describing it to others.
Not nonchalance, but wariness, not sure of how much I wanted to share or show my feelings.
Mostly because of what hurt me: the shitty goodbye, and the reappearance that seemed like nothing had happened, and the superficiality of the conversation. The whole of it all.
What could I say?
Europe's fucking amazing, but I'm afraid to share that part of me with you when you'll barely open up to me; something's different, something's changed. Where did you go? How can one act like nothing really happened and how half way this is.
Again it repeated, out of all the nights I was home, how many did one come to things. And the goodbye again, so lacking. you'll be fine. Not the point, not what friends say.
Indifference will allow me to watch myself, right? Playing passive like you will keep me at the edge, despite how much I hate it, not pushing, having this? Makes me wonder why you even want it.
And the part of me that's just always so open was eager all the while to explode about everything I've experienced - what it's like, what my Master's is like, but I kept it all away.
A shadow? I know you're in there, maybe you're just as wary as me. Or afraid, like I am, but I'm not really, just met by a wall where it's like I never say anything, and that, I think is the most trying of all. And I catch myself initiating feeble conversation. Why? Why do I feel I have to prove, and try for when I've already lost in some sense?
Bother. ;(