This is old

Sometimes I like the things I write, or at least snippets of them. I'll post more of these as I gain confidence in myself. I don't think anyone I know reads this but if you do, please don't mind how tragic I sound. I was very upset when I wrote these but, as I said, it was quite a few months ago so there is nothing to worry about!



i can't describe the way i'm feeling
there's so much inspiration and idea but i don't know how to let it out
i am possibility girl and i want to be reality girl
i don't know how people really feel about me and that scares me
i feel aggravated at my lack of motivation
at my lack of making my dreams come true
i feel trapped in my own life
i am too literal

there's a feeling in my stomach that tells me that i'm meant for more than i allow myself to achieve
and i'm slinking through shadows that are cast by my own doubts and fears of dismissal and disapproval
nothing should be as hard as i'm making things for myself and these walls that i've built up need to be taking down
i'm being passed by and its only because of my own precautions, the steps that i've taken to protect myself, to shelter myself
the tangles in my hair are the knots in my stomach and i can't breathe for the suffocation that i've created for myself
everything is me me me but at the same time it's not. i want to swim in metaphor and bathe in simile
open the blinds and let the sun stream in, hang lanterns, live in fairy tales
screaming crying but there is no sound, i'm lost within my body
i see myself swinging from the ceiling or sinking to the bottom of a lake
i want to drift off rather than hurt anyone
i need to take hold of my life and make myself happy. i'm not a mother, i'm not a wife, i'm not a caretaker. i am not life support. the only thing i can rely on is myself and i can't stand being relied on so much. it hurts. it's infuriating. i don't want to be touched and i writhe under the strains of relationship and togetherness. i'm not ready for this. i'm not ready for this, i'm not ready for this.
i feel tragic and misunderstood. i feel so terribly unhappy, like some teenaged cliche that's reached its expiration.  i just want to be happy and i want things to be perfect. i want to let go and feel myself drift off and have everything just flow absolutely the way it should. i want these ribs and these hips to jut at the most romantic angles so that i may drift gracefully and awkwardly into people's hearts
i can taste daggers in my palms and iron on my flesh and nothing seems more appealing than that
the tides are turning and lapping at my jaw, my eyes, my hair and oh! i'm sinking now, turning round in the weightless pressure that beats on my lungs and chest
oh sweet joy, heaven's open arms
please let me go, please let me free
i want nothing more than to right now be alone. oh irony, you've come to join me
i've been naive and i wish that i weren't such a bleeding heart
i wish that i realized sooner the promise of being young and careless
mysterious in my silence, the light that dances behind my eyes and invited you in was feverish and clamoring. if only i had waited. if only i'd let things happen they way they should have and not brought them on provoked.
only now am i paying the price, looking to the outside and seeing the hope that i'd been missing. i no longer want to be part of a whole, i want to be whole on my own and add a part down the road, but for now just me, just me by myself. whole. happy. complete.