(no subject)
I feel like a closed book- nothing is coming in and nothing is going out...I am leather bound and worn, and you'd think I would be cold but I radiate heat. I give off a warmth and I just sit on the bookshelf until someone comes to try to open me up, and figure out what I am about. It's nerve racking I just sit there...no one seems to see what I need them to and no one seems to understand the way I want them to; at the end of the day it's just a frustrating tug of war with myself not to let my emotions get the best of me and spill out and ruin the contents of the book.