Just keep fighting
Sometimes it's hard to keep going. Like seems pointless in the morning. But than I remember, I do serve a purpose. I get people things at lunch, and if I weren't here, than who would do that? Certainly not themselves. Maybe, maybe one more time. In a place that no one can see. It would help me, I konw it would. And I wouldn't have to say anything about it. It would stop me from things, the things I'm afraid of. My own fault. I can't be left alone.
I should write more. Or have I lost my skill for that too? It seems that everyday I loose another part of myself. It just slips away. When did I become so desperate, so volatile as to think of myself this way? It's funny, in a sick kind of way.
I wonder what would happen if I didn't come home from Chicago. I have several places to go. But the real thing is, could I do it? Could I just walk away from this life, this new reality? I think the sad truth is that I'm never going to be happy unless somebody's beating me. I won't be relaxed until I have people to take care of, unless I can find a real reason to neglect myself.
Must my confessions become mear memories of mine? Will they ever reach an ear, or cross someone's eye? One day I hope so, but I don't think I'm ready for it. If you asked me about it, I would deny it. If you brought it up, I would change the topic. What does it mean when everytime you cry, your eyes are on fire? Does that mean I shouldn't be doing it, of does it mean that I have reached a new weak? That's wheat I think. I'm weak, and I've let too many people close.
I ramble, and I know it. I don't care. This is my therapy.
Why can't somebody say "you're beautiful"? Why does it have to be staring of "your hot" ( which is barely said, and for good reason)? Why can't everybody see who I am? If they saw me for who I was, and of course I mean past the damaged person underneath my skin, they would see someone.....I don't know.....worth knowing maybe. I know, I KNOW that I am a good person. I treat people with kindness and respect. I have a sense of humor and I love the world around me (in a matter of speaking). Why can't someone look at me and into my eyes, into my soul? Tell me you know I'm lying, and really mean it. Look past my smile and see the pain in my eyes.
Fairy tales, right? A hopeless romantic who can't stop living in the future because she can't face the present. Someboyd who's just waiting for her prince charming to come and whisk her away. I want it all, and I'm afraid I'll get none, or even come close to any of it. Being a mom, having a sucessful career, being a wonderful wife; I won't get any of it, will I? And I'm sure the sooner I figure that out, the sooner I can face reality, right?
I wish I could live in my dream world. I wish I could be the loved person I dream of. I wish I weren't sick anymore, and that I stoped hurting the people that I love. I wish I were happy, and that I stoped having the thoughts that I have all the time. I wish I could be anyone else but me.
I should write more. Or have I lost my skill for that too? It seems that everyday I loose another part of myself. It just slips away. When did I become so desperate, so volatile as to think of myself this way? It's funny, in a sick kind of way.
I wonder what would happen if I didn't come home from Chicago. I have several places to go. But the real thing is, could I do it? Could I just walk away from this life, this new reality? I think the sad truth is that I'm never going to be happy unless somebody's beating me. I won't be relaxed until I have people to take care of, unless I can find a real reason to neglect myself.
Must my confessions become mear memories of mine? Will they ever reach an ear, or cross someone's eye? One day I hope so, but I don't think I'm ready for it. If you asked me about it, I would deny it. If you brought it up, I would change the topic. What does it mean when everytime you cry, your eyes are on fire? Does that mean I shouldn't be doing it, of does it mean that I have reached a new weak? That's wheat I think. I'm weak, and I've let too many people close.
I ramble, and I know it. I don't care. This is my therapy.
Why can't somebody say "you're beautiful"? Why does it have to be staring of "your hot" ( which is barely said, and for good reason)? Why can't everybody see who I am? If they saw me for who I was, and of course I mean past the damaged person underneath my skin, they would see someone.....I don't know.....worth knowing maybe. I know, I KNOW that I am a good person. I treat people with kindness and respect. I have a sense of humor and I love the world around me (in a matter of speaking). Why can't someone look at me and into my eyes, into my soul? Tell me you know I'm lying, and really mean it. Look past my smile and see the pain in my eyes.
Fairy tales, right? A hopeless romantic who can't stop living in the future because she can't face the present. Someboyd who's just waiting for her prince charming to come and whisk her away. I want it all, and I'm afraid I'll get none, or even come close to any of it. Being a mom, having a sucessful career, being a wonderful wife; I won't get any of it, will I? And I'm sure the sooner I figure that out, the sooner I can face reality, right?
I wish I could live in my dream world. I wish I could be the loved person I dream of. I wish I weren't sick anymore, and that I stoped hurting the people that I love. I wish I were happy, and that I stoped having the thoughts that I have all the time. I wish I could be anyone else but me.