Once again, from the top...
It's official: Livejournal is nothing but my emotional dumping ground.
I've said it all before but fuck it, the feeling is still there so I guess there's no sense in changing the tune. I feel so conflicted right now. There's the part of me that wants you to stay, so that I can cling to you forever and look for the subtle hints between us and there's the other part of me that just wants you to go so that I can let the love drain out of me, like some kind of leaky pipe. I know that it's pathetic and it's all brought on by me without any provocation from you, but sometimes it feels so much like we're just missing something. I can easily see myself spending the rest of my life with you. But then I show you something of myself and it feels like I'm met with a blank stare, probably because that's the reality of the situation. How retarded. I'd do anything to show you how much I care except tell you how I feel. I could break a mirror, if the act wasn't so cliche. No real release left in it when you know every actor probably portrays it at least once somewhere and every Tom, Dick, and Harry Wannabe does it so they can be like those actors. I just hate this. The cycle goes like this: I feel something completely against logic and reason. When my feeling isn't returned, I emotionally assault myself for being such an idiot and feeling things I can't control. I'm unnaturally hard on myself and I know that I am. In fact, I'm cognisant of the entire process, something most people have to go to years of therapy just to find out, but I can't for the life of me put the brakes on hold. I know where it's been, where it is and where it's going but I can't jump the tracks. I'm back to just wishing the feeling would go away, something I beat myself up over because of how heartless it sounds. I wish that I could talk to you and not feel like I have to keep my hands at my sides, that when we're alone I don't have the inner urge to blurt out that I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever met and that I've loved you practically since I've known you. I keep wishing that this whole thing will turn out like something Hollywood would write, that you feel the exact same way and are just as good at hiding it. We would finally come to a night where we both couldn't take it anymore and both jumped on each other sentences trying to tell each other how we felt. We would be overjoyed, embrace and laugh about the idea of how much time we've wasted and then drive off into the sunset while the woodland creatures lift their voices and sing tales of our love to a popcorn inhaling audience. But, usually, it doesn't work that way. I'm still holding out for the singing critters, though.
I've said it all before but fuck it, the feeling is still there so I guess there's no sense in changing the tune. I feel so conflicted right now. There's the part of me that wants you to stay, so that I can cling to you forever and look for the subtle hints between us and there's the other part of me that just wants you to go so that I can let the love drain out of me, like some kind of leaky pipe. I know that it's pathetic and it's all brought on by me without any provocation from you, but sometimes it feels so much like we're just missing something. I can easily see myself spending the rest of my life with you. But then I show you something of myself and it feels like I'm met with a blank stare, probably because that's the reality of the situation. How retarded. I'd do anything to show you how much I care except tell you how I feel. I could break a mirror, if the act wasn't so cliche. No real release left in it when you know every actor probably portrays it at least once somewhere and every Tom, Dick, and Harry Wannabe does it so they can be like those actors. I just hate this. The cycle goes like this: I feel something completely against logic and reason. When my feeling isn't returned, I emotionally assault myself for being such an idiot and feeling things I can't control. I'm unnaturally hard on myself and I know that I am. In fact, I'm cognisant of the entire process, something most people have to go to years of therapy just to find out, but I can't for the life of me put the brakes on hold. I know where it's been, where it is and where it's going but I can't jump the tracks. I'm back to just wishing the feeling would go away, something I beat myself up over because of how heartless it sounds. I wish that I could talk to you and not feel like I have to keep my hands at my sides, that when we're alone I don't have the inner urge to blurt out that I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever met and that I've loved you practically since I've known you. I keep wishing that this whole thing will turn out like something Hollywood would write, that you feel the exact same way and are just as good at hiding it. We would finally come to a night where we both couldn't take it anymore and both jumped on each other sentences trying to tell each other how we felt. We would be overjoyed, embrace and laugh about the idea of how much time we've wasted and then drive off into the sunset while the woodland creatures lift their voices and sing tales of our love to a popcorn inhaling audience. But, usually, it doesn't work that way. I'm still holding out for the singing critters, though.