About Falling
It’s been over a month, but tonight I feel comfortable. I’m slowly falling back into that place I hate. It’s warm. Like the liquid fire creeping up your veins after shooting up. I don’t like it. I don’t like it. But if you’ve ever felt like this, you know it’s impossible to fight. Like being anesthetized but aware. You know, but you can’t do. I’m not worried. It’s not a bad one. And who knows? I might get some decent writing out of this spell. I hope I do. I need it. I’m slacking in that department.
Seems like every time my friends come home from college, I have band junk that makes it hard to see them. Ugh. It pisses me off.
All you are to me is dead skin. If something is dead, that means it was once alive. And skin covers, protects, warms and heals. But all you are is dead skin to me.
Ingrid Michaelson = Major Ear Candy. Seriously. Listen to her stuff. “Soldier” “Maybe” “Everybody” They’re amazing. Just a suggestion. (:
Can't stop thinking about what he did wrong to me.
Just can't figure out just what I did wrong.
Kill myself thinking about things that you did to me.
Regrets aren’t always mistakes.
But regrets start with r, just like reminders.
And these regrets are reminders of my mistakes.
I know he was busy, but he could’ve texted back.
After all, he asked me first.
But then I realized it was a mass text.
And didn’t really care.
In the time I wrote this blog, I worked on 2 poems and a story.
I didn’t finish any of them.
I can’t seem to finish anything.
Some people give it to God, and then it’s gone.
Some people have to give it to God more than once before it’s gone for good.
I wonder if I’ve ever really given it to God at all.
I don’t wanna get lost in the ocean.
Swimming isn’t the problem.
I can swim just fine; I just can’t seem to float.
They say it’s all in the breathing.
Easier said than done?
This is absolutely nothing but it is every single thing.
And I only know one person who will really understand that.
But he’s at home, and I might as well be a million miles away.
Across the bay.
It don’t matter much.
Because it is what it is.
And life don’t stop for anybody.
(I just need someone to tell me why they love me right now, ‘cause I can’t seem to love myself.)
Seems like every time my friends come home from college, I have band junk that makes it hard to see them. Ugh. It pisses me off.
All you are to me is dead skin. If something is dead, that means it was once alive. And skin covers, protects, warms and heals. But all you are is dead skin to me.
Ingrid Michaelson = Major Ear Candy. Seriously. Listen to her stuff. “Soldier” “Maybe” “Everybody” They’re amazing. Just a suggestion. (:
Can't stop thinking about what he did wrong to me.
Just can't figure out just what I did wrong.
Kill myself thinking about things that you did to me.
Regrets aren’t always mistakes.
But regrets start with r, just like reminders.
And these regrets are reminders of my mistakes.
I know he was busy, but he could’ve texted back.
After all, he asked me first.
But then I realized it was a mass text.
And didn’t really care.
In the time I wrote this blog, I worked on 2 poems and a story.
I didn’t finish any of them.
I can’t seem to finish anything.
Some people give it to God, and then it’s gone.
Some people have to give it to God more than once before it’s gone for good.
I wonder if I’ve ever really given it to God at all.
I don’t wanna get lost in the ocean.
Swimming isn’t the problem.
I can swim just fine; I just can’t seem to float.
They say it’s all in the breathing.
Easier said than done?
This is absolutely nothing but it is every single thing.
And I only know one person who will really understand that.
But he’s at home, and I might as well be a million miles away.
Across the bay.
It don’t matter much.
Because it is what it is.
And life don’t stop for anybody.
(I just need someone to tell me why they love me right now, ‘cause I can’t seem to love myself.)