Emo is as emo does...
Do you ever find yourself saying "thank you" or any other number of nicetites just because you were taught to do so?
Are you really grateful everytime you say you are, or is it just a reflex, forced upon you to present a positive face? Do you ever find yourself hiding yourself because you are not feeling like you want to act on those reflexes?
I sometimes wish I was a bit more stable, levelheaded, and just generally not myself when it comes to my disposition. I tend to go from zero to sixty and back again, without being able to breathe, or take a second to think what I'm doing all the way through. And I don't understand how I can feel like crying when there's nothing wrong. How is it that I can lean against a wall and push my foot up against the brick and just want to fall in? How can it feel like my heart is about to fall out, and I don't even know why?
I tend to be such a happy person! I love that aspect about myself, in fact. I love that I can be so dizzingly happy that I can bearly breathe for the exact opposite reason why I feel dizzy right now. I love that I can feel good when everything is wrong, because I can usually pick out the untainted pieces; the pieces that speak volumes about love and triumph and, well, happiness.
So why do I have to be so volatile? Why do I pick out the only bad pieces of my life to examine when I feel like this? Why can't I see the bigger picture?
I feel like there are cracks in my face; I feel like everybody is looking in an realizing what I am, and what I am not, and what I'm faking and what I'm crying over. I feel like dam that holds us all in place is slowly being pounded on, just waiting to be opened by the wrong sort of force. I can hear a jackhammer in the distance, waiting.
One of these days I feel like I'm going to overflow myself. I feel like the plaster will never be enough to hold what is pent up inside in place for very long. But before that even happens, I feel the dam getting ugly; chipped paint, dirty watch-tower windows nearby, the obscene grafitti in one corner, glowing in its bastard message. What was once proud is now crumbling.
I wish I would just cry and get it over with.
Are you really grateful everytime you say you are, or is it just a reflex, forced upon you to present a positive face? Do you ever find yourself hiding yourself because you are not feeling like you want to act on those reflexes?
I sometimes wish I was a bit more stable, levelheaded, and just generally not myself when it comes to my disposition. I tend to go from zero to sixty and back again, without being able to breathe, or take a second to think what I'm doing all the way through. And I don't understand how I can feel like crying when there's nothing wrong. How is it that I can lean against a wall and push my foot up against the brick and just want to fall in? How can it feel like my heart is about to fall out, and I don't even know why?
I tend to be such a happy person! I love that aspect about myself, in fact. I love that I can be so dizzingly happy that I can bearly breathe for the exact opposite reason why I feel dizzy right now. I love that I can feel good when everything is wrong, because I can usually pick out the untainted pieces; the pieces that speak volumes about love and triumph and, well, happiness.
So why do I have to be so volatile? Why do I pick out the only bad pieces of my life to examine when I feel like this? Why can't I see the bigger picture?
I feel like there are cracks in my face; I feel like everybody is looking in an realizing what I am, and what I am not, and what I'm faking and what I'm crying over. I feel like dam that holds us all in place is slowly being pounded on, just waiting to be opened by the wrong sort of force. I can hear a jackhammer in the distance, waiting.
One of these days I feel like I'm going to overflow myself. I feel like the plaster will never be enough to hold what is pent up inside in place for very long. But before that even happens, I feel the dam getting ugly; chipped paint, dirty watch-tower windows nearby, the obscene grafitti in one corner, glowing in its bastard message. What was once proud is now crumbling.
I wish I would just cry and get it over with.