Some quailty lines are in this...
Am I supposed to cry now? I'm washed up on a shore. There isn't anything left for my emotions to eat at. Am I awake? As I stand in the middle of my room, digging my toenails into the carpet, I realize that this is all my mind. I am making up complicated situations for myself. Is this all that love is? Something that our minds builds up inside of ourselves? Am I dead? Still I'm standing in the middle of my room; I listen to the synthesizer play from my speakers at a low background level. It is true.
I just watched a film with Britney Murphy, and wonder if I am that beautiful. How could someone top the beauty of a powdered actress? Granted the lighting, lenses, and etc- but could I really be? Guys are always up for sex, but does this mean I am beautiful? I was discussing my plans for my night with my father, and I said that I was going out with someone that I enjoy spending time with. He asked if he is a potential- he makes me laugh, but then explained that he probably doesn't feel the same way towards me. My father said something that really hit me, "How can they not?" and I never thought of it that way. How can they not. It is true.
So why am I tearing myself up with this confusion? I'm not. I have decided, while digging my toenails in the carpet with the same synthesizer playing at the perfect level, that this is all a joke- and our minds are playing it on us. Well, the joke is on us; the joke is on me. I am beautiful, I don't need complicated situations. All I need is that joke. That joke to get me through this. I am not dead, not yet. Many people are dead already- I am alive. It is true.
I just watched a film with Britney Murphy, and wonder if I am that beautiful. How could someone top the beauty of a powdered actress? Granted the lighting, lenses, and etc- but could I really be? Guys are always up for sex, but does this mean I am beautiful? I was discussing my plans for my night with my father, and I said that I was going out with someone that I enjoy spending time with. He asked if he is a potential- he makes me laugh, but then explained that he probably doesn't feel the same way towards me. My father said something that really hit me, "How can they not?" and I never thought of it that way. How can they not. It is true.
So why am I tearing myself up with this confusion? I'm not. I have decided, while digging my toenails in the carpet with the same synthesizer playing at the perfect level, that this is all a joke- and our minds are playing it on us. Well, the joke is on us; the joke is on me. I am beautiful, I don't need complicated situations. All I need is that joke. That joke to get me through this. I am not dead, not yet. Many people are dead already- I am alive. It is true.