Well that's how I learned the lesson that everyone's alone.
It appears this is the new place of my weekly update.
This can't be good.
I guess i'll get right down to business.
Silence better not be the response to this one.
I'm sick of the story. My heart literally falls to my stomach and
then proceeds to self-destruct like a ticking bomb when I think about it.
Which is all the time. It's like I'm about to blow to pieces at any given second.
Do you understand that? Does ANYONE fucking understand that?
I don't think so darlin'.
Scratch that. I know no one does.
No. You don't know what it's like to know what I know.
(You, meaning you people in general. Not anyone specifically.)
You don't know what it's like to see what I see, and feel
what I feel; and yet have to witness daily (some days more than others)
a sickening display of a love that is dead.
I make things grow. It's what I do.
It's almost as if there aren't any roots here.
There's nothing left to do but lay on the ground and pray for rain.
And the wind whipsers, "patience, darling, it will come."
So I just continue to wait.
And wait.
Which is something I don't mind. The waiting.
It's just the simple fact that everything gets rubbed in my face every two seconds.
You'd think people could be more understanding.
And yet--you have to take into consideration--they are people.
In that case, I say......fuck everyone.
You know. The truth is:
No one is ever there.
No one is ever there for me when I need them to be.
No one ever takes the time to understand every piece of me.
No one cares to ask me how I am, and mean it. Rarely.
There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about it.
There isn't an hour that I don't feel his pain.
THAT'S what you don't understand.
THAT'S what he even doesn't understand.
No. Don't even.
I don't give a damn anymore.
Just for one day I wish I could let everyone feel
what it's like to be me.
I never talk this way.
I never say "Woe is me."
So you better get the point that this is REAL.
Raw emotion. Truth. And honesty.
HONESTLY.
You relate to me?
You can't be serious.
No one has ever understood me,
And I wouldn't say that no one ever will
because I know someday someone will,
but the effortlessness of the people of today
give me a lack of courage to see that day when
someone will actually prove to me that they could
always be by my side.
I'm not asking for someone to wipe away my tears, I can do that myself.
But I wish someone could be there, at the right moment, to make me smile
and give me a hug afterwards without pulling away too quickly.
Sometimes I leave the room, and walk away.
I come back and stand outside the door, and wish I could just stay.
I stand there for a few minutes, contemplating whether or not
I want to cry and get tears all over your sheets, and never stop kissing you,
or if I want to keep those tears and kisses in a safe place and go to bed.
I always go to bed.
But it's not what I want.
Sometimes I walk down the road from a weekly visit at your house
and wonder if you know me well. Most of the time I think you do.
But then there are times when I put myself in your place and wonder
if I would ever do some of the things you do.
But that's probably a part of the fucked up mind that I have, and how
I guess I can just use more tact when I should over most people.
But its understandable. Some things you just can't help but do.
So I just don't tell you how much it hurts my feelings.
But it's not what I want.
Sometimes I watch you interact with other people and
wonder if I will know you in 3 years. And I wonder if what my
mom said about you will come true.
I think, in my mind, do you know me either?
You say you don't understand a lot. And I wonder why?.
I've known you 3 years. I've spoken my mind to you more than
I have to most people. But then I stopped when I reailzed
that every time I speak my mind, not 5 seconds go by without
the subject being changed. Might as well of kept it to myself.
But that's not what I want.
My mom could give a shit less.
She says she feels so bad for what she's 'doing to me'
but she doesn't have a fucking clue.
Unbelievable.
Evidentally I have a lot of anger.
Mrs. Debra helped me interpret a dream I had.
Everyone was angry and watching me.
I was angry and crying because I was going against God.
So I guess there are a few things I need to get straight.
My life being one.
My priorites being another.
June 5th. We'll be out. So she says.
This is NOT going send me into a depression.
I'll end up killing myself if I let the reality hit me as hard as it should.
So I'll just forget everything.
Only for a little while.
What a fucking joke.
This can't be good.
I guess i'll get right down to business.
Silence better not be the response to this one.
I'm sick of the story. My heart literally falls to my stomach and
then proceeds to self-destruct like a ticking bomb when I think about it.
Which is all the time. It's like I'm about to blow to pieces at any given second.
Do you understand that? Does ANYONE fucking understand that?
I don't think so darlin'.
Scratch that. I know no one does.
No. You don't know what it's like to know what I know.
(You, meaning you people in general. Not anyone specifically.)
You don't know what it's like to see what I see, and feel
what I feel; and yet have to witness daily (some days more than others)
a sickening display of a love that is dead.
I make things grow. It's what I do.
It's almost as if there aren't any roots here.
There's nothing left to do but lay on the ground and pray for rain.
And the wind whipsers, "patience, darling, it will come."
So I just continue to wait.
And wait.
Which is something I don't mind. The waiting.
It's just the simple fact that everything gets rubbed in my face every two seconds.
You'd think people could be more understanding.
And yet--you have to take into consideration--they are people.
In that case, I say......fuck everyone.
You know. The truth is:
No one is ever there.
No one is ever there for me when I need them to be.
No one ever takes the time to understand every piece of me.
No one cares to ask me how I am, and mean it. Rarely.
There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about it.
There isn't an hour that I don't feel his pain.
THAT'S what you don't understand.
THAT'S what he even doesn't understand.
No. Don't even.
I don't give a damn anymore.
Just for one day I wish I could let everyone feel
what it's like to be me.
I never talk this way.
I never say "Woe is me."
So you better get the point that this is REAL.
Raw emotion. Truth. And honesty.
HONESTLY.
You relate to me?
You can't be serious.
No one has ever understood me,
And I wouldn't say that no one ever will
because I know someday someone will,
but the effortlessness of the people of today
give me a lack of courage to see that day when
someone will actually prove to me that they could
always be by my side.
I'm not asking for someone to wipe away my tears, I can do that myself.
But I wish someone could be there, at the right moment, to make me smile
and give me a hug afterwards without pulling away too quickly.
Sometimes I leave the room, and walk away.
I come back and stand outside the door, and wish I could just stay.
I stand there for a few minutes, contemplating whether or not
I want to cry and get tears all over your sheets, and never stop kissing you,
or if I want to keep those tears and kisses in a safe place and go to bed.
I always go to bed.
But it's not what I want.
Sometimes I walk down the road from a weekly visit at your house
and wonder if you know me well. Most of the time I think you do.
But then there are times when I put myself in your place and wonder
if I would ever do some of the things you do.
But that's probably a part of the fucked up mind that I have, and how
I guess I can just use more tact when I should over most people.
But its understandable. Some things you just can't help but do.
So I just don't tell you how much it hurts my feelings.
But it's not what I want.
Sometimes I watch you interact with other people and
wonder if I will know you in 3 years. And I wonder if what my
mom said about you will come true.
I think, in my mind, do you know me either?
You say you don't understand a lot. And I wonder why?.
I've known you 3 years. I've spoken my mind to you more than
I have to most people. But then I stopped when I reailzed
that every time I speak my mind, not 5 seconds go by without
the subject being changed. Might as well of kept it to myself.
But that's not what I want.
My mom could give a shit less.
She says she feels so bad for what she's 'doing to me'
but she doesn't have a fucking clue.
Unbelievable.
Evidentally I have a lot of anger.
Mrs. Debra helped me interpret a dream I had.
Everyone was angry and watching me.
I was angry and crying because I was going against God.
So I guess there are a few things I need to get straight.
My life being one.
My priorites being another.
June 5th. We'll be out. So she says.
This is NOT going send me into a depression.
I'll end up killing myself if I let the reality hit me as hard as it should.
So I'll just forget everything.
Only for a little while.
What a fucking joke.