I saw you cry today, the pain spread across your face
I saw you smile today, trying so hard to fill the empty space.
Fearing the end with all you are, holding back what you have to give
Let it go, release the hurt and pain so that you may live.
It has to end to begin.
Love for loveless and hope for the hopeless, your false strength is running dry
It hurts to let go, no matter how many times you don’t let yourself cry.
It’s holding back that gets you, it has failed you every time.
You’ve begged for your freedom so many times; well, your troubles are just like mine.
And it has to end to begin.
You forget that love is not measured how it is given, but how it is embraced.
And still you hold back as to not get hurt, keeping what little you have- just in case.
I know you think that no one cares, and I know it’s constantly on your mind.
Your heart is crying out for love, and seemingly no one has the time.
Well, because I saw you smile today and you finally let me in,
So begins the infamous ‘healing process’, because as you know- it has to end to begin.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
a little self-evaluation: aka word vomit
it's weird, i'm sitting here watching sex and the city and the only thing i can manage to think about is the emotional wreck that has defined my friendships. i find myself wanting, longing so much for these beautiful friendships to devote myself to and to just pour into, and yet i somehow come up short. i dont know if it's me, questioning myself to no end and becoming the person who i feel is needed, who fulfills the certain need of whatever friend needs me at the time.
is it me? or is it just what happens to people like me? i guess i consider myself a loyal person, pretty mindful of the people around me with a passion for nothing more than to just be that person to depend on. i love conversation. i love just talking and spending time with people, it's my love language. yet i still manage to find the friends which fulfill my want for conversation and time who only fall in the 'fair-weather friend' category. yes, i have fallen in that category before. who hasn't? but i'd like to think that loyalty will eventaully take over and i'll be there for my friends when they need me. maybe that's the problem, i can be the person who loves being there when people need them. i hate it, why is it that we get into these mindsets that unless someone expresses a dire need for a friend that tht is when we step in? friendship is a consistent relationship, one that is necessary at all times. it's the little things that friends fulfill for each other; stopping by on their way to class just to say hey, calling when they're bored and thought of you, making time to hang out and invest time and energy into them, and just paying attention. at least these are the things i notice. back to the whole understanding topic, that is what i truly value in a friendship.
so why is it that while i seem to be so good at critiquing and reasoning the strange behavior of the friends i seem to attract, i cannot seem to understand my own cycle of this attraction. yes it's tedious and frustrating and hurtful, but it's consistently reoccurring. WHY. that is what gets me. is it because i have been exposed or possibly been practicing this kind of behavior for so long, or simply the way i am or have become? usually i know myself, the way i am and why, but now this feeling of being unsure is kind of unsettling. to be suddenly jolted so hard that i question myself is a new phenomenon. maybe it is me, maybe i never knew myself and my idea of logic was completely off. that will be yet something else to get used to, and i'm not sure how i feel about it. change is usually something i'm open-minded to, something i can adjust to pretty smoothly. but to have my whole world asolutely shaken? yea.. about that.
is it me? or is it just what happens to people like me? i guess i consider myself a loyal person, pretty mindful of the people around me with a passion for nothing more than to just be that person to depend on. i love conversation. i love just talking and spending time with people, it's my love language. yet i still manage to find the friends which fulfill my want for conversation and time who only fall in the 'fair-weather friend' category. yes, i have fallen in that category before. who hasn't? but i'd like to think that loyalty will eventaully take over and i'll be there for my friends when they need me. maybe that's the problem, i can be the person who loves being there when people need them. i hate it, why is it that we get into these mindsets that unless someone expresses a dire need for a friend that tht is when we step in? friendship is a consistent relationship, one that is necessary at all times. it's the little things that friends fulfill for each other; stopping by on their way to class just to say hey, calling when they're bored and thought of you, making time to hang out and invest time and energy into them, and just paying attention. at least these are the things i notice. back to the whole understanding topic, that is what i truly value in a friendship.
so why is it that while i seem to be so good at critiquing and reasoning the strange behavior of the friends i seem to attract, i cannot seem to understand my own cycle of this attraction. yes it's tedious and frustrating and hurtful, but it's consistently reoccurring. WHY. that is what gets me. is it because i have been exposed or possibly been practicing this kind of behavior for so long, or simply the way i am or have become? usually i know myself, the way i am and why, but now this feeling of being unsure is kind of unsettling. to be suddenly jolted so hard that i question myself is a new phenomenon. maybe it is me, maybe i never knew myself and my idea of logic was completely off. that will be yet something else to get used to, and i'm not sure how i feel about it. change is usually something i'm open-minded to, something i can adjust to pretty smoothly. but to have my whole world asolutely shaken? yea.. about that.
Monday, August 20, 2007
the art of understanding.
It’s really interesting, I’ve always thought, how people live multiple lives. Don’t worry, I’m not criticizing, I do it too. But think about it- the person you are when you’re around family, when you’re around the friends that are outspoken and fun to be around, and the friends who you’re supposed to set an example for. I’ve always wondered which one I am, and why I can’t be that person no matter who I’m around. Is it because I can’t be the girl who struggles when I am with the people who look to me for answers or as a role model? I find myself knowing definite aspects about the person I am, but when I am with certain people those qualities are often sheltered as to not cause a conflict of personality. However, does that mean I have contradicting aspects in my personality? Call it petty or insignificant, but it’s one of those things that really make me wonder.
I have always been over-analytical. I over-analyze myself to the point where I know my faults, the reason why I do things- stupid and smart- and as a result I have come to understand why other people do the things they do. See, there is a difference between actually understanding something, and being understanding. The ones who are understanding are the infamous friends you go to and pour your heart out to, desperately seeking some type of affirmation or confirmation to their reaction to the situation, and reply by nodding their heads and seemingly identifying with whatever your dilemma may be. But once you think about it though, you realize that there actually is no way they truly can understand what your situation entails- the emotions your feeling, or the extent at which you are feeling them. Understanding, on the other hand, is obtained through experience and experience alone of a circumstance in which there is some common ground to that of which claim to understand. “Being understanding” scratches the surface; while understanding digs deeper.
I do not think I know everything, nor do I claim to understand and be able to identify with every situation that comes to me. Sometimes, all I can do is be understanding. It is when people attempt and claim to actually understand that gets me heated. No, you have never experienced this; therefore, you should not be telling me how to handle it. A person grows from their trials and must learn to pick themselves up by suffering through it, and sometimes alone.
Back to my self-analysis: it comes down to me being a spectator in my own life, basically. I watch the situations as they happen to me, but remove myself from the first person for the pure reason that emotion doesn’t get in the way of how I react to it. This is where the contradicting aspects of my personality come in. Naturally, no one wants to be exposed or vulnerable to hurt or pain, which is where walls come in rather handy. However, so much of me longs to be broken, willing to take the hurt and pain so I can actually embrace emotion and the feeling that comes with growing as a person. I want to lead, set an example, be a role model, but how can I be if I do not understand the pain that this person is experiencing, but I- having experienced the same thing- blocked out? It’s almost like you have to choose by process of elimination the person that you become. There rarely is anyone to guide you who knows you well enough, and can convince you beyond wanting to know it for yourself, to know what decisions should be made at what point in your life, and yet still allow you to be molded into who you could [ideally] be. It’s time to suck it up and understand- not be understanding of the fact- that this is your life; no matter how many you feel like you may be living or in front of how many different crowds you’re living them, you’re responsible for each one. Spectator or not.
I have always been over-analytical. I over-analyze myself to the point where I know my faults, the reason why I do things- stupid and smart- and as a result I have come to understand why other people do the things they do. See, there is a difference between actually understanding something, and being understanding. The ones who are understanding are the infamous friends you go to and pour your heart out to, desperately seeking some type of affirmation or confirmation to their reaction to the situation, and reply by nodding their heads and seemingly identifying with whatever your dilemma may be. But once you think about it though, you realize that there actually is no way they truly can understand what your situation entails- the emotions your feeling, or the extent at which you are feeling them. Understanding, on the other hand, is obtained through experience and experience alone of a circumstance in which there is some common ground to that of which claim to understand. “Being understanding” scratches the surface; while understanding digs deeper.
I do not think I know everything, nor do I claim to understand and be able to identify with every situation that comes to me. Sometimes, all I can do is be understanding. It is when people attempt and claim to actually understand that gets me heated. No, you have never experienced this; therefore, you should not be telling me how to handle it. A person grows from their trials and must learn to pick themselves up by suffering through it, and sometimes alone.
Back to my self-analysis: it comes down to me being a spectator in my own life, basically. I watch the situations as they happen to me, but remove myself from the first person for the pure reason that emotion doesn’t get in the way of how I react to it. This is where the contradicting aspects of my personality come in. Naturally, no one wants to be exposed or vulnerable to hurt or pain, which is where walls come in rather handy. However, so much of me longs to be broken, willing to take the hurt and pain so I can actually embrace emotion and the feeling that comes with growing as a person. I want to lead, set an example, be a role model, but how can I be if I do not understand the pain that this person is experiencing, but I- having experienced the same thing- blocked out? It’s almost like you have to choose by process of elimination the person that you become. There rarely is anyone to guide you who knows you well enough, and can convince you beyond wanting to know it for yourself, to know what decisions should be made at what point in your life, and yet still allow you to be molded into who you could [ideally] be. It’s time to suck it up and understand- not be understanding of the fact- that this is your life; no matter how many you feel like you may be living or in front of how many different crowds you’re living them, you’re responsible for each one. Spectator or not.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
everything is illuminated
As I sit against my railing, I am reminded simply by looking up why I live here. The ground gives way right in front of me, sloping down the steep drop coated with tall, thin-stemmed dandelions amidst a forest of weeds. It falls into a sandy parking lot, loitered with old pickup trucks, Volkswagon Jettas and a run-down motorcycle that leans against someone else’s railing, bent and misshapen as it is. From there, it appears to run into the traffic mayhem of 15th Ave; but that is only because I cannot see what lies against the next drop off.
Cars speed back and forth across the picture plain that is my view, running into the trees which comprise the frame. Their noise is all the same, increasing and fading as they come and go. As the sun peaks through any break it can find in the dark gray clouds, it radiates through the veins of leaves waving back and forth in the slight breeze. Everything is illuminated.
Across 15th, telephone poles strung with electric wires drooping in between lead my gaze up to the tree-covered hilltop. To the left of them is the driving range, with its poles and netting separating the haven within from the constant movement of the city outside. As I look the right, a soccer field is spread out before me, accompanied by the whistles and sounds of screaming and cheering. Both are aimless, while the wires in between still point straight on. They cross the perpendicular tracks of the train whose whistle I fall asleep to every night, and run overtop the many different styles of houses and condominiums that remind me a city has no boundaries, forcing their presence into the trees’ domain.
As it nears sundown, it gets surprisingly brighter, and the sunlight bounces off the tops of cars parked up and down a street leading to the top of the mountain, itself serving as the top of my picture plain. With my arms outstretched, index fingers and thumbs forming a less abstract frame, I can’t help but smile.
The combinations of seagulls screaming at each other, the conversations of neighbors I have yet to meet- probably never will, car alarms and jazz music makes up the soundtrack which accents my picture. The rich scent of clove cigarettes mixed with coffee comes in waves as I sit against my railing, and even as I close my eyes against the sudden breeze, I can still feel the city.
As I walk back to my apartment, I am surrounded by flowers pouring over the side of balconies and overhanging trees that I like to call “canopy trees”, simply because I don’t know what kind of trees they really are. Someone is throwing a dinner party across the street, and their laughter fills my apartment. I sit by myself at the kitchen table except for the single rose in a glass vase and my laptop. Such a city girl. I play my own jazz music as I sit in front of a blank sketchbook. A cool breeze seeps in through the tattered screen, bringing with it a symphony of tires scraping the gravel, which mixes perfectly with the tempo of the piano.
I love this city; the smell, the lights, and the constant rush of eclectic people and environment-hating cars. No matter where I am, inside or out, it seems to always follow me. All the lights inside are off, yet the small dots of city lights still manage to provide enough to brighten the room. Everything is illuminated, and all I feel I can do is relax, perfectly content.
Cars speed back and forth across the picture plain that is my view, running into the trees which comprise the frame. Their noise is all the same, increasing and fading as they come and go. As the sun peaks through any break it can find in the dark gray clouds, it radiates through the veins of leaves waving back and forth in the slight breeze. Everything is illuminated.
Across 15th, telephone poles strung with electric wires drooping in between lead my gaze up to the tree-covered hilltop. To the left of them is the driving range, with its poles and netting separating the haven within from the constant movement of the city outside. As I look the right, a soccer field is spread out before me, accompanied by the whistles and sounds of screaming and cheering. Both are aimless, while the wires in between still point straight on. They cross the perpendicular tracks of the train whose whistle I fall asleep to every night, and run overtop the many different styles of houses and condominiums that remind me a city has no boundaries, forcing their presence into the trees’ domain.
As it nears sundown, it gets surprisingly brighter, and the sunlight bounces off the tops of cars parked up and down a street leading to the top of the mountain, itself serving as the top of my picture plain. With my arms outstretched, index fingers and thumbs forming a less abstract frame, I can’t help but smile.
The combinations of seagulls screaming at each other, the conversations of neighbors I have yet to meet- probably never will, car alarms and jazz music makes up the soundtrack which accents my picture. The rich scent of clove cigarettes mixed with coffee comes in waves as I sit against my railing, and even as I close my eyes against the sudden breeze, I can still feel the city.
As I walk back to my apartment, I am surrounded by flowers pouring over the side of balconies and overhanging trees that I like to call “canopy trees”, simply because I don’t know what kind of trees they really are. Someone is throwing a dinner party across the street, and their laughter fills my apartment. I sit by myself at the kitchen table except for the single rose in a glass vase and my laptop. Such a city girl. I play my own jazz music as I sit in front of a blank sketchbook. A cool breeze seeps in through the tattered screen, bringing with it a symphony of tires scraping the gravel, which mixes perfectly with the tempo of the piano.
I love this city; the smell, the lights, and the constant rush of eclectic people and environment-hating cars. No matter where I am, inside or out, it seems to always follow me. All the lights inside are off, yet the small dots of city lights still manage to provide enough to brighten the room. Everything is illuminated, and all I feel I can do is relax, perfectly content.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
so this is what it feels like
So this is what it feels like to come down from a high. Not just any high, but a spiritual high. I went to this camp, where it was so amazing and life-changing and I was just so happy, and now I am just struck with such loneliness and abandonment that it has pretty much deteriorated that high.
Friendship is a bipolar concept. Too bad it’s one of the things that I feel my life depends upon to survive and not go into depression mode. I am a philosophical person; always thinking, always evaluating, always observing and taking note. My depth is killing me. It forces me to put so much weight on everything, and while I’ve gotten pretty good at blocking the pain that usual circumstances bring, the friendships I cherish never fail to go deeper than that wall. Go figure.
People will be there at inopportune times to pick you up when you need it, patiently being there for words of affirmation and as your rock to lean on as you pick yourself back up. They become your idea of a constant source of comfort. However, it has been in my experience that a constant only remains constant so long; and the deeper the friendship is, the more likely- and quickly- that consistency will disappear.
I prayed to be broken so that I could be healed, not annihilated. The brokenness was supposed to happen to the wall around what was already broken- not to what has been already broken completely.
So this is my attack, the one that always tends to happen when coming down, or what brings you down. You slip into old routines, become the person that everyone knew you to be, and get hit harder than when you weren’t as conscious about it. Of course.
I don’t want to be broken anymore, and I have two choices. I can either build up the wall that has led me to my downfall in the first place, or I can opt to be ripped to shreds in hopes I will eventually be healed. Sweet deal, just what I need.
Friendship is a bipolar concept. Too bad it’s one of the things that I feel my life depends upon to survive and not go into depression mode. I am a philosophical person; always thinking, always evaluating, always observing and taking note. My depth is killing me. It forces me to put so much weight on everything, and while I’ve gotten pretty good at blocking the pain that usual circumstances bring, the friendships I cherish never fail to go deeper than that wall. Go figure.
People will be there at inopportune times to pick you up when you need it, patiently being there for words of affirmation and as your rock to lean on as you pick yourself back up. They become your idea of a constant source of comfort. However, it has been in my experience that a constant only remains constant so long; and the deeper the friendship is, the more likely- and quickly- that consistency will disappear.
I prayed to be broken so that I could be healed, not annihilated. The brokenness was supposed to happen to the wall around what was already broken- not to what has been already broken completely.
So this is my attack, the one that always tends to happen when coming down, or what brings you down. You slip into old routines, become the person that everyone knew you to be, and get hit harder than when you weren’t as conscious about it. Of course.
I don’t want to be broken anymore, and I have two choices. I can either build up the wall that has led me to my downfall in the first place, or I can opt to be ripped to shreds in hopes I will eventually be healed. Sweet deal, just what I need.
oh, one of my internal battles...
Why is it that I, someone who is somehow viewed as a leader among the majority of my groups of friends as well as on my floor, do not possess the qualities that I as a person would look for in a leader? To say that my time management skills are lacking would be an understatement, my emotions have abandoned me- no, more like I have banished them, and I am constantly contradicting myself and everything I have worked to become.
Why is it? If I am this leader then why are my friends more unpredictable than Seattle weather? I always envisioned a leader and someone who attracts people, has this magnetic personality and willingness to- to, I don’t even know, but do something meaningful. I don’t expect to not have problems, I really don’t, but I am tired of being this leader and not reaping the benefits from it.
It’s been a while since I’ve talked to God, a while since I’ve been willing to surrender so much as an exam or quiz to Him. I’m stubborn, probably just for stubbornness’ sake, because I know I can’t outwait God. Hell, He waited for millennia for me to even get here, much less deal with me. So what am I proving to myself, this whole trying to outwait God? Is stubbornness a quality of a leader? I give up. I’m so exhausted, mentally and physically. I’m tired of being logical and analytical, and more than anything I’m tired of being let down, which caused me to even get here. And now, I don’t care, I’m going to bed.
There is nothing I despise more than a fair weather friend. Nothing. They are those who hear through the grapevine that something happened in your life or that you’re pissed off, and suddenly they run into you, exclaiming that it’s been a while and that you absolutely need to hang out soon and catch up. No, actually, you just want the satisfaction of being there when you’re needed, unbeknownst to you that that is a full time commitment. Oh wait, you already have your set group of friends, the ones you vent to me about being flaky or hurtful, never around. Wake up. You have no clue what you’re doing to me. Because while there is nothing I despise more than a fair weather friend, there is not a lot in this physical world I value more than a friendship.
I’ve always been a pretty logical person, someone who analyzes the situation before flipping out or analyzes it by flipping out. And now it has gotten to the point where I am able to take my situations as they come, and to take them emotionally detached. Sure that may not be a very swell way to go about life, that it may come back and bite me in the ass, but let’s be honest here, chances are I won’t feel a thing.
You know, no matter how hard I convince myself I am or can be, overall, my love for people comes through. I can be completely infuriated, wanting to go off on someone, but then I see them, happy and then I hug them, and it just melts away. It’s a rough exterior and that is my means of brokenness. It sucks, but at least I know I still got it.
Why is it? If I am this leader then why are my friends more unpredictable than Seattle weather? I always envisioned a leader and someone who attracts people, has this magnetic personality and willingness to- to, I don’t even know, but do something meaningful. I don’t expect to not have problems, I really don’t, but I am tired of being this leader and not reaping the benefits from it.
It’s been a while since I’ve talked to God, a while since I’ve been willing to surrender so much as an exam or quiz to Him. I’m stubborn, probably just for stubbornness’ sake, because I know I can’t outwait God. Hell, He waited for millennia for me to even get here, much less deal with me. So what am I proving to myself, this whole trying to outwait God? Is stubbornness a quality of a leader? I give up. I’m so exhausted, mentally and physically. I’m tired of being logical and analytical, and more than anything I’m tired of being let down, which caused me to even get here. And now, I don’t care, I’m going to bed.
There is nothing I despise more than a fair weather friend. Nothing. They are those who hear through the grapevine that something happened in your life or that you’re pissed off, and suddenly they run into you, exclaiming that it’s been a while and that you absolutely need to hang out soon and catch up. No, actually, you just want the satisfaction of being there when you’re needed, unbeknownst to you that that is a full time commitment. Oh wait, you already have your set group of friends, the ones you vent to me about being flaky or hurtful, never around. Wake up. You have no clue what you’re doing to me. Because while there is nothing I despise more than a fair weather friend, there is not a lot in this physical world I value more than a friendship.
I’ve always been a pretty logical person, someone who analyzes the situation before flipping out or analyzes it by flipping out. And now it has gotten to the point where I am able to take my situations as they come, and to take them emotionally detached. Sure that may not be a very swell way to go about life, that it may come back and bite me in the ass, but let’s be honest here, chances are I won’t feel a thing.
You know, no matter how hard I convince myself I am or can be, overall, my love for people comes through. I can be completely infuriated, wanting to go off on someone, but then I see them, happy and then I hug them, and it just melts away. It’s a rough exterior and that is my means of brokenness. It sucks, but at least I know I still got it.
advice for the loveless
I don’t know how many people one must form a seemingly valued relationship with that, of course, both assume to be mutual. Oh, but what easily-deceived creatures people are. Skepticism has become a primary force of defense against this popular little habit, resulting in lack of ability to trust, become vulnerable, and ultimately love. There is always that one person who one assumes to be an immune to the disease which infects the flood of individuals searching for true love; that one person who convinces you to let your guard down and trust them, making the ever-popular promise to “handle with care” your fragile and naive heart. However, it is experience which molds us and the tragic heartbreaks that, at the time seem to lead to hell, we simply put up another wall around the emotions so humiliatingly exposed by the ordeal. For months after, they consume your thoughts even more so than when you were “in love”, this time you find yourself not being able to remember the last time you genuinely smiled since then, and wondering who they have moved onto and obviously found complete happiness with, or someone as foolish as you were to toy around with for the time. You knew the whole time you should have kept the wall they sweet-talked to pieces with each false “I love you”, for they are nothing more than words to you, nothing is anymore; words as shallow as the promises they made you, and the loyalty they swore to you only. Oh, the truth in the saying “love is blind”- words which, unlike the majority, have substance and have reigned true over centuries. The fairy tale love stories seen in the movies one can only dream about, for that is all they are- fairy tales, unable to come true. The safety and security I once felt in your arms is gone, for I am unable to play with my own emotions or rip my own heart to shreds as I watch myself in torment and pain. Trust should not be a commodity given away freely upon request, but something to strive for over a period of a lifetime through not words, but undying respect of the fragility of another person, and the selflessness proven to them through unconditional love. That, is something to think about.
empty swing at manitou park
it's as if you suddenly don't see me, when i'm standing right in front of you.
i can tell you're scared by the way you look me straight in the eyes, exuding all the confidence in the world.
trust me, i've been there before.
totally desensitized to the fact that the people who were supposed to be closest to you have completely abandoned you. you put up a pretty good front, too- acting like it doesn't faze you or like you're not all pulp rather than calloused.
trust me, i've been there before.
but see, there's something different about you than the average insecure, lost and pitifully searching for love. your mask consists of this forced confidence and resistance to pain.
trust me, i've been there before.
and here is what will happen next. see, eventually you will run into a situation that will hit you with such a full force, and it will finally make you search in a frenzy for the feeling you locked away so long ago. for the first time you will want to be free to let go, to be exposed in front of the people you convinced to see you as invincible. well, here you are, wanting so badly to partake in the beautiful emotion of pain because it's the only way you would ever dream of reacting, and inside your heart simply cannot justify opening the floodgates because to reason doesn't fall in the list of exceptions. it would help if there were such a list.
it's ok, pretty girl, i've been there too.
you can't see me, i know. and whether my words go in and out, you heard them once. i know no one ever showed you the love you deserve or taught you that love is not measured how it is given, but embraced. the pulp that you try and pass off as your heart has to be tired.
trust me, i've been there before.
while your heart rips to shreds, you are convinced it is growing stronger because you feel less. without nerves it would be had to feel anything, i suppose. maybe it's because the pain is drowned out by each hand clinching so tightly to the ends of metal stakes driven firmly into the solid ground. is that where you find your stability? it was where i found mine. when u slip, pretty girl, the stakes drive further into your hands. It’s crippling you, not holding you still.
trust me, i've been there before.
trust me, before you can say the same.
i can tell you're scared by the way you look me straight in the eyes, exuding all the confidence in the world.
trust me, i've been there before.
totally desensitized to the fact that the people who were supposed to be closest to you have completely abandoned you. you put up a pretty good front, too- acting like it doesn't faze you or like you're not all pulp rather than calloused.
trust me, i've been there before.
but see, there's something different about you than the average insecure, lost and pitifully searching for love. your mask consists of this forced confidence and resistance to pain.
trust me, i've been there before.
and here is what will happen next. see, eventually you will run into a situation that will hit you with such a full force, and it will finally make you search in a frenzy for the feeling you locked away so long ago. for the first time you will want to be free to let go, to be exposed in front of the people you convinced to see you as invincible. well, here you are, wanting so badly to partake in the beautiful emotion of pain because it's the only way you would ever dream of reacting, and inside your heart simply cannot justify opening the floodgates because to reason doesn't fall in the list of exceptions. it would help if there were such a list.
it's ok, pretty girl, i've been there too.
you can't see me, i know. and whether my words go in and out, you heard them once. i know no one ever showed you the love you deserve or taught you that love is not measured how it is given, but embraced. the pulp that you try and pass off as your heart has to be tired.
trust me, i've been there before.
while your heart rips to shreds, you are convinced it is growing stronger because you feel less. without nerves it would be had to feel anything, i suppose. maybe it's because the pain is drowned out by each hand clinching so tightly to the ends of metal stakes driven firmly into the solid ground. is that where you find your stability? it was where i found mine. when u slip, pretty girl, the stakes drive further into your hands. It’s crippling you, not holding you still.
trust me, i've been there before.
trust me, before you can say the same.
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