beautiful letters
I stand in the door way of my room...looking around at the jumbled mess of scattered clothing and stacks of mail.
my books are piled on the opposite side of the bed where someone should be sleeping.
I use those to fill the void.
I don't know what it is like to be loved by someone with intentions of a romantic nature, at times I believe this is possible and at other times I don't.
while standing here, my mind wanders off to a time when life was filled with someone that I attached all of my hopes too...someone I cared for, someone I eventually lost to anger.
I thought that was love.
I thought I was being honest with myself.
I thought that I could finally stop searching and be at ease with this.
it was nothing as I had hoped it would be.
friendship is all anyone wants from me and to be honest, not many want that from me now a days.
I'm not the one to be adored and admired like that.
I think it is because of my voice? is it too soft?
am I too immature?
am i not masculine enough?
am i too ignorant?
why do people ask if I am a transsexual?
does their heart not tell them who I am?
why the confusion?
why do people worry about my voice? why does it upset them and put them off?
it's the one God gave me and I've known no other voice except my own.
I have no idea really where to fit in except with myself here.
among the books, the clutter, the dirty windows and the unmade bed.
other people seem to get friends and interests and life seem to pour out on to them in good measure....and then there is me.
what of it?
what about me?
who am I and when do I get a chance?
I want to receive cards and beautiful letters and candy hearts and the occasional useless stuffed animal with my name embroidered on it's ear.
why is it that when I ask these questions and wonder about such things, I am the one that is trying to drag everyone else down?
am I not human?
can't I question?
is it not normal to feel hurt when someone takes off and leaves me?
when loyalties shift and suddenly I am no good?
I wont take less than the best for myself.
if that means excluding the dead weight and the people who care nothing about all of me as I do them, then I cannot be there.
I cannot be that person.
and I cannot live among the clutter anymore....it is time to clean house.
life is a process....I am living it and I'm thankful for it.
my books are piled on the opposite side of the bed where someone should be sleeping.
I use those to fill the void.
I don't know what it is like to be loved by someone with intentions of a romantic nature, at times I believe this is possible and at other times I don't.
while standing here, my mind wanders off to a time when life was filled with someone that I attached all of my hopes too...someone I cared for, someone I eventually lost to anger.
I thought that was love.
I thought I was being honest with myself.
I thought that I could finally stop searching and be at ease with this.
it was nothing as I had hoped it would be.
friendship is all anyone wants from me and to be honest, not many want that from me now a days.
I'm not the one to be adored and admired like that.
I think it is because of my voice? is it too soft?
am I too immature?
am i not masculine enough?
am i too ignorant?
why do people ask if I am a transsexual?
does their heart not tell them who I am?
why the confusion?
why do people worry about my voice? why does it upset them and put them off?
it's the one God gave me and I've known no other voice except my own.
I have no idea really where to fit in except with myself here.
among the books, the clutter, the dirty windows and the unmade bed.
other people seem to get friends and interests and life seem to pour out on to them in good measure....and then there is me.
what of it?
what about me?
who am I and when do I get a chance?
I want to receive cards and beautiful letters and candy hearts and the occasional useless stuffed animal with my name embroidered on it's ear.
why is it that when I ask these questions and wonder about such things, I am the one that is trying to drag everyone else down?
am I not human?
can't I question?
is it not normal to feel hurt when someone takes off and leaves me?
when loyalties shift and suddenly I am no good?
I wont take less than the best for myself.
if that means excluding the dead weight and the people who care nothing about all of me as I do them, then I cannot be there.
I cannot be that person.
and I cannot live among the clutter anymore....it is time to clean house.
life is a process....I am living it and I'm thankful for it.