Don’t mind reading this
I failed my try to say goodbye
I always go back to that state where I lose myself
I don’t know what I feel I can’t find words
Where did the dictionary go?
Can you translate my fears make them your own
Who am I to say you’re not gonna make me understand
What’s going on inside my head
What is this coming out of me?
The tentacles out of my holes
Grabbing all the bad and taking them into my bones
I can’t handle it anymore
Things are taking me down
Weighing me down
Pushing me down
Sucking me down
Mumbling words, none of them makes sense
Only when I see them spoken by somebody else
I don’t know myself
But I know the angst
That makes me go back to that state
Where I was nothing
I want to know if I’m relatable to people, if I’ll find company. I’m not easy to love for regular people and it’s a fact I can’t love them back. The amazing (and complex) people I do like, I’m not enough for them, and I can’t be with someone who I think is more than me. And since I hate myself, and hate that I haven’t accomplished anything, I wouldn’t want an equal.
The first time I saw you I already knew you. I knew what you were all about and you stared back at me because you could remember seeing a part of me before. You knew me too, you just didn’t know it yet. I saw you and I stared and begged it would happen again. I saw you and I was glad, because I realized that I had my life back. Back from people I thought I knew.
You’re here now, but I can’t see you. We’re back to back, touching, sharing. But we can’t see each other, but we can’t stop looking. I wish I could turn around but I don’t know in which direction to go.
The second time I was sure that with you I could find a cure for what had been haunting me. Maybe it could turn darker, you see. Maybe you just were the first light that lit when I was surrounded by night.
I wish I could say more, but that’s all I know about you. I’m hoping you’ll meet my expectations.
It feels like a sigh when you say it. It feels normal, like everything’ll be fine.
i die every night.
i am rebirthed every morning.
the interim is an under ocean.
I know nothing about life.
And less about living.
I wish I had all the ability to understand things, art mostly. But I don’t. I am in this path for some reason I haven’t gotten yet. If I was influenced by someone I liked, there’s a reason I liked that about that someone. I know I should be here, but I don’t think I am for the right reasons.
Though I’m really trying to make myself believe it’s something that’s going to grow in me within time. Maybe my mind is tired and that’s why I can’t get any of the things I see, what people find beautiful and groundbreaking. I know I don’t put enough effort on that. I just see images, I just hear words, but I need to start trying to feel them, trying to understand the stories behind those pieces.
When I see something I don’t see it myself, I don’t feel it for me. I tend to look at something and try to see why this person (the one I got it from) felt that could make them have the urge to make it a part of them.
I’m not living, I’m watching people live. Trying to jump to conclusions. Feeling deep things, but none of them for myself (that would only make me sick).
I feel like I’m an observer of life, but not a good one.