it's all in what's unsaid
It's quite possible that he doesn't really care. Maybe I was a convient addition into what he thought he wanted with his life. All such wonderful thoughts and feelings under lock and key.
Back to the world he knew. Temptations that he may not be able to resist. Maybe another woman who doesn't try so hard and will turn a blind eye (turn a blind eye, evita, turn a blind eye) to her surrondings.Or prehaps her brain is dead from the drugs.
I can see her now. Familiar faces.
Funny how we all look the same after awhile.
Maybe he's trying to hold on. It's getting harder by the day.
My opinion, like to most of those i care about, is worth little. A sweet young girl, what do i know?
Does he think:
I know nothing of a hard life?
I can't imagine the things he has seen?
I'm a pampered little princess.
a girl who drifts by on the grace of a smile and a laugh. Who acts like a child.
Oh, god if you only knew.
I'm self concious and distrustful. It may just be that it's not what i thought it would be. It could be the disappointment, and how I am just so so so god damn (dot damned, for some) tired of everything.
So exhausted with the effort of everything. So tired of lifting this weight everyday.
I have a doctor more interested in my sex life and how i make men happy then he should be. He writes prescriptions to up the doses of meds when my counselor informes him of the panic attacks, the anxiety and the bathroom incident.
I don't think i can do this anymore.
I want so much from life, and I'm always unsatisfied. I feel so empty that the things i do are desperate attempts at staving off the despair i feel creeping up everyday.
This hurts bad. This day to day living. I'm cutting my skin on the sharp edges of what I saw and felt the first few days out. I want myself back so so bad.
This isn't me. This isn't me.
But what if it is. What if this is who i am, and that girl i was is just who i wanted to be. Not real, but someone i created to feel a distinct change in myself.
My very own little tyler durden.
This will get better or so they tell me. They better be right.
Back to the world he knew. Temptations that he may not be able to resist. Maybe another woman who doesn't try so hard and will turn a blind eye (turn a blind eye, evita, turn a blind eye) to her surrondings.Or prehaps her brain is dead from the drugs.
I can see her now. Familiar faces.
Funny how we all look the same after awhile.
Maybe he's trying to hold on. It's getting harder by the day.
My opinion, like to most of those i care about, is worth little. A sweet young girl, what do i know?
Does he think:
I know nothing of a hard life?
I can't imagine the things he has seen?
I'm a pampered little princess.
a girl who drifts by on the grace of a smile and a laugh. Who acts like a child.
Oh, god if you only knew.
I'm self concious and distrustful. It may just be that it's not what i thought it would be. It could be the disappointment, and how I am just so so so god damn (dot damned, for some) tired of everything.
So exhausted with the effort of everything. So tired of lifting this weight everyday.
I have a doctor more interested in my sex life and how i make men happy then he should be. He writes prescriptions to up the doses of meds when my counselor informes him of the panic attacks, the anxiety and the bathroom incident.
I don't think i can do this anymore.
I want so much from life, and I'm always unsatisfied. I feel so empty that the things i do are desperate attempts at staving off the despair i feel creeping up everyday.
This hurts bad. This day to day living. I'm cutting my skin on the sharp edges of what I saw and felt the first few days out. I want myself back so so bad.
This isn't me. This isn't me.
But what if it is. What if this is who i am, and that girl i was is just who i wanted to be. Not real, but someone i created to feel a distinct change in myself.
My very own little tyler durden.
This will get better or so they tell me. They better be right.