- 2004 -
Another dead year, with all the mistakes and wrong decisions I've made. All the lies I believed and told. All the hearts broken and scars put on my own. All the frustration and stress caused by my lack of intrest in a world slowing digging it's own grave. Or maybe I'm just digging my own. Using the bones of every person I've ever hurt or misled. All the emotions and aspirations of finding someone I can trust or hold on to, dashed to dust beneath my best intentions. I'm tired... This life, this town, this body. Nothing holds splendor. "Awkward" is a medal I wear with pride. I die in minutes; I flourish in moments. I am nothing more than what I allow myself to become. Nothing. Me, me, me. I, I, I. A self-centered child that will never be loved or allow himself to BE loved. Why? As if I'm deserving. All the fucking shit that I've done in my life; to others and myself. All the contradiction. All the contrition. God, to honestly be loved would pacify so much of this self- damnation. To be accpeted. To be loved. To be recongnized as the bleeding heart and not the closed fist. That's all I've bee doing for years now. Bleeding. Dying a little more everyday. Finding no joy, no happiness. Other than in moments. Brief times of possible fulfillment. Until I fuck them up. Until I become overzealous and rush what should take time to build into something substantial. Trust. Something I've given away without a second glance. No surprise at how many holes there are in my heart. I put them there. With every awkward moment and self-destructive belief. All I ever wanted was love and accpetance. Two things. Too much? Seems so. If I could just trust myself or control this rage, made so by all the failed attempts at happiness, I know I could be something great. Others have told me that they feel a presence about me. Maybe it's not me after all. Maybe it's all the hate and failure that I carry like a martyr. Built up so strong that it affects others. I don't know anymore. I care too much about shit that shouldn't concern me. I care too much about people who don't care about themselves... or me. I don't see the ones that do care, as if I'm blind to their adoration and willingness to offer me more than what I dwell in. My hell. How deep am I now? Will this new year offer me more? Or just send me deeper... I hate being inside my head.
Another dead year, with all the mistakes and wrong decisions I've made. All the lies I believed and told. All the hearts broken and scars put on my own. All the frustration and stress caused by my lack of intrest in a world slowing digging it's own grave. Or maybe I'm just digging my own. Using the bones of every person I've ever hurt or misled. All the emotions and aspirations of finding someone I can trust or hold on to, dashed to dust beneath my best intentions. I'm tired... This life, this town, this body. Nothing holds splendor. "Awkward" is a medal I wear with pride. I die in minutes; I flourish in moments. I am nothing more than what I allow myself to become. Nothing. Me, me, me. I, I, I. A self-centered child that will never be loved or allow himself to BE loved. Why? As if I'm deserving. All the fucking shit that I've done in my life; to others and myself. All the contradiction. All the contrition. God, to honestly be loved would pacify so much of this self- damnation. To be accpeted. To be loved. To be recongnized as the bleeding heart and not the closed fist. That's all I've bee doing for years now. Bleeding. Dying a little more everyday. Finding no joy, no happiness. Other than in moments. Brief times of possible fulfillment. Until I fuck them up. Until I become overzealous and rush what should take time to build into something substantial. Trust. Something I've given away without a second glance. No surprise at how many holes there are in my heart. I put them there. With every awkward moment and self-destructive belief. All I ever wanted was love and accpetance. Two things. Too much? Seems so. If I could just trust myself or control this rage, made so by all the failed attempts at happiness, I know I could be something great. Others have told me that they feel a presence about me. Maybe it's not me after all. Maybe it's all the hate and failure that I carry like a martyr. Built up so strong that it affects others. I don't know anymore. I care too much about shit that shouldn't concern me. I care too much about people who don't care about themselves... or me. I don't see the ones that do care, as if I'm blind to their adoration and willingness to offer me more than what I dwell in. My hell. How deep am I now? Will this new year offer me more? Or just send me deeper... I hate being inside my head.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
pl4st1kwh0r3:
-hugs you- 
fairygrlz:
Wow, I need a drink now! I hope this year is better than the prior.