Everyday is a writing exercise and most of the time what I write down is a bunch of crap. I’m not proud of it. It’s been awhile since I’ve written anything worth thinking about or anything that brings out deep emotion. My writing bores me, and maybe a big part of that has to do with being bored. I could use something inspiring.
On a perfect day, I’d be asleep. Lost to the real world, I would gladly fall into unconsciousness. Some nights I miss my pillow. Other nights I want to set my whole bed on fire. I wish I didn’t have this love/hate relationship with sleep. I guess the night’s not quite done with me yet. At least I have music to keep me company when there’s no one to warm my bed.
I wish I could express myself in a poem. Connect with my feels and understand what it is I want in this life; you bring these feelings out of me. And I want to give you something in return, but I’m still fighting the coward in me. This is no excuse though. I’ll probably send you an anonymous text though about how awesome you are and how I wish I could be yours. I am yours though, even if it’s only for this moment. I hope one day you know how close I carry you, in my heart, close to my soul. No, you know what, forget one day, you should know now. Life’s too short to hold back good feelings and hold in the bad. I know I’m scared of how you might feel or receive this, but I’m more afraid of never knowing. You said once that I was kind of like a girlfriend. It confused me a little and I hated myself a little more for letting the moment slip between my finger tips.
I’m fighting the coward within and this is my confession. I don’t admit this to many, I just hide behind what others believe. They don’t see much. I’m good at hiding away. So it’s true when I say I am a shadow; the darkness doesn’t bother me or a hundred percent consume me. I can distinguish the two and find the light in between. I hope you can understand me. I’m more random at nights than I should be. And perhaps a little boring during the day. I love tangents, this is an example of one. Depending on what I’m doing and what I’m listening to, the results rarely make any sense. My focus is easily misplaced.
And yet my mind always finds its way back to you. And maybe I’m obsessed because I’m alone, and people tell me I shouldn’t be. They tell me I shouldn’t drink so much and to put my sexy on. I’m told a lot of things, and if it wasn’t for my up bring I’d tell them to go fuck themselves. And to kiss my ass, but I’d never tell you this. You’re the one person who has never made me feel like an outcast. So maybe I’m obsessed with the idea of you because the dream of you feels too good to be true.
And boy do I try to dream of you. Try to will you into my reality while at the same time warning you to stay away. Truth is I worry that one day you’ll wake up and see the mess before you. And you’ll finally run away, like everybody else before you.
somedays I wish you would
I wish I could express myself in a poem. Connect with my feelings while discovering what I want in this life; you bring out these feelings in me. You’ve been nothing but good to me.
Lungs filled with smoke and I don’t even smoke. Heart sore and I haven’t even given it to anyone. I’m sad. Feels like I’m going to sink or drown forever. I wish there was a remedy that didn’t involve losing myself. No medicine seems to help and family just moves to encourage. Feeling like I want to stay high forever and forget the evils of the world. Especially when I feel like I’m part of all that.
What I really want is good music and a way to feel it all the time. Trying to hold on to the positive, I’ve only succeed in drowning out the noise with a bottle.
Why is every night the same, when I’m without you? Feels like I’m going on just for spite. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of ending it this way. Not until I find you. Not until I can feel you in my arms one last time. Not until my message reaches you.
The closer this day comes, the more I scare myself. Like when it comes, so too will the end. And I think a part of me is expecting it to. Almost like that part wants it to. How did I get to this point in my life? In the end I’m questioning my sanity.
Then there’s a moment where it all doesn’t end, and for just one second there’s sadness. And guilt. A lot of guilt. But at least I’m still on the pursuit of happiness. There’s still time for me to turn my life around. Time to give up my vices. Maybe give up the night as well. Let myself drift off to dreamland, or at least let my head hit the pillow.