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Oh all the things to write about, and to not.
It's all so contrived, these entries.
I spend hours thinking of them. Or planning my day around how I will not write in this today.
How much can I say though?
I could just complain about my insecurites, which bother me the most lately. Or I could write a poem, and post it here, let the words speak for me.
A few times today I've been asked how things have been going with her. It makes me suspicious.... as if no one wanted it to go well. Well too bad, because things are fine. Two weeks? How about two months maybe? It feels as long, and that's all that should matter.
Something that didn't bother me before as much as it does now, is the way I stay in this room too much, every night. I don't want to be here. I want an excuse to miss updating, not that anyone reads this. I want to be out, doing nothing, just not here.
I have also found myself thinking about her a lot, almost every minute. I imagine what she's doing, if she's thought of me at all. I pretend for a moment, that she can see through my eyes, and feel like me. Even then, I act slightly different, sitting calm, not figeting. I act busy, or I stare at myself in the mirror, pretend she can see and realize what I am.
I am nothing, and yet I am full. Full of emotions and ideas, that never progress. I want to go to the doctor, and have him tell me something is wrong with me, because I feel so odd, with everything about me, I certainly can't be that normal, can I?
I've been trying lately to not get annoyed by people worrying, and I've been trying to not be so bitter for my age. I've also been trying to understand myself. Why can't I love? Why can't I feel anything honest in my life.
Things might be different, but then again, routine bites hard.
I can't remember the last time I saw the sun rise or set. How much can that show about me? The hours I spend in my room, missing every new oppurtunity. I want to be invited, I want to be important, but it's not part of my personality. I am meant to be off to the side. I accept this, but I can't.
But, whining aside,
you are beautiful. you should know this, and i know this.
and you are the most wonderful thing, flaws or not.
i want to kiss you again, to make up for any time it hasn't been great.
or just to put you in a good mood,
because i could be satisfied with that.
It's all so contrived, these entries.
I spend hours thinking of them. Or planning my day around how I will not write in this today.
How much can I say though?
I could just complain about my insecurites, which bother me the most lately. Or I could write a poem, and post it here, let the words speak for me.
A few times today I've been asked how things have been going with her. It makes me suspicious.... as if no one wanted it to go well. Well too bad, because things are fine. Two weeks? How about two months maybe? It feels as long, and that's all that should matter.
Something that didn't bother me before as much as it does now, is the way I stay in this room too much, every night. I don't want to be here. I want an excuse to miss updating, not that anyone reads this. I want to be out, doing nothing, just not here.
I have also found myself thinking about her a lot, almost every minute. I imagine what she's doing, if she's thought of me at all. I pretend for a moment, that she can see through my eyes, and feel like me. Even then, I act slightly different, sitting calm, not figeting. I act busy, or I stare at myself in the mirror, pretend she can see and realize what I am.
I am nothing, and yet I am full. Full of emotions and ideas, that never progress. I want to go to the doctor, and have him tell me something is wrong with me, because I feel so odd, with everything about me, I certainly can't be that normal, can I?
I've been trying lately to not get annoyed by people worrying, and I've been trying to not be so bitter for my age. I've also been trying to understand myself. Why can't I love? Why can't I feel anything honest in my life.
Things might be different, but then again, routine bites hard.
I can't remember the last time I saw the sun rise or set. How much can that show about me? The hours I spend in my room, missing every new oppurtunity. I want to be invited, I want to be important, but it's not part of my personality. I am meant to be off to the side. I accept this, but I can't.
But, whining aside,
you are beautiful. you should know this, and i know this.
and you are the most wonderful thing, flaws or not.
i want to kiss you again, to make up for any time it hasn't been great.
or just to put you in a good mood,
because i could be satisfied with that.