(no subject)
I return again to this place...that I nearly abandoned.
To speak about the things that stand in my way.
That make me question my own abilities.
That rock my stupid narcissistic personality disorder.
My wavering self-concept.
I try to say I don't care.
But even as I type this, I wonder how many people will look at this.
And how many will laugh at my poor excuse for writing.
It's not a poem, or even a paragraph.
It's not formed into anything that makes sense.
The only division of lines is the arbitrary sentences.
Every line ends with a period.
I wish I could just say 'fuck it'.
I wish I could pretend, to others, and to myself, that I don't care.
That I'm not fragile and so easily hurt.
To speak about the things that stand in my way.
That make me question my own abilities.
That rock my stupid narcissistic personality disorder.
My wavering self-concept.
I try to say I don't care.
But even as I type this, I wonder how many people will look at this.
And how many will laugh at my poor excuse for writing.
It's not a poem, or even a paragraph.
It's not formed into anything that makes sense.
The only division of lines is the arbitrary sentences.
Every line ends with a period.
I wish I could just say 'fuck it'.
I wish I could pretend, to others, and to myself, that I don't care.
That I'm not fragile and so easily hurt.