I've gotta bust you out of here somehow...

Current Music:	Death Cab For Cutie - Title and Registration
Time:	12:11 am
Current Mood:	blah

I do not want to be all alone.
Other people have a profound effect on me. Beautiful, smart, funny
people make me insecure. It's not that I think I am not good enough. I
know that I am who I am, and I like that person- but I like that
person when I am alone. But then- in walks that girl. The blonde, tan,
skinny one, and then all of my confidence begins to fade. I think that
I am afraid that I will always be second to the beautiful girl that is
in the same room with me.

At the end of the day (or week, or month, or breakup, or conversation,
or song, or movie, or anything), it's hard to move past my own
feelings of exhaustion.

I can not detect sarcasm. All of my conversations are so literal. Life
is good. And bad. And really weird. At this exact moment- it's just
weird.

It's getting crazy, darling. My mind keeps telling me You're going to
lose all of your friends if you let a single detail escape from your
mouth. Don't hate him if you don't want to. Be kind.

It's so strange. I am so sick of human interactions. I am sick of
people who are trying to charm their way into my heart, and I am sick
of forgiving them. I just don't think that I'm built for this. But at
the same time...I am craving it. Not manipulation- but real
conversations. The last time I felt my heart aching, because I was
loving speaking from my mind, was in January. That was so long ago.
Ever sense then- I have been censored. I live in the most impersonal
city on the planet. With it's banks, and gyms, and sprawling houses- I
am sick of everyone trying to top their neighbors with things. I hate
this city- I want to leave. But I do love a few people who live within a forty mile
radius. That's good enough, I guess. The thing is...little things
matter to me. Hugs, and conversations, and smiles...they matter to me.
And they have been so cheapened. I want to go back to a year
ago- when I knew what I wanted. I am second guessing myself- and I am
afraid that I am going to lose myself again.

Bravo to me. I learned how to love. But it hurts.

Sometimes I want to eat words. They get stuck in my throat.
I still carry a quiet desperation, unmarked, unnamed. Maybe it says,
"love me." Or, "understand what I'm trying to say here!" Or maybe it's
the longing for completeness, resolution of all things, parts being
made full. Yearning for actual rest that isn't just a way to cope with
the lump in my throat.
I hate you for being you at times.

comments: 1 comment

January 16th, 2008

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