Part of me (a very large part) demands insanity. I’ve grown used to falling, those midnight scars from stepping on bottle caps and pieces of metal sticking out of the ground.
I was desensitized to death at a young age and I hate it. When people die I just don’t feel. My heart keeps beating and my body keeps moving. I can’t stop and fathom the horrible situation of death. I don’t understand what it means anymore to lose someone.
But a caring person would call me over dramatic.
A non-caring person would also call me over dramatic. You really have to pick out who cares and doesn’t care these days. Force them into a stupid conversation and see how much attention they give you.
But if I fall one more time maybe she’s right.
I’ve grown to like the taste of water.
I don’t understand how you drink coffee. Not the taste, but the process in itself. (also had hot cocoa to this list of hot things that I’m not physically capable of drinking safely)
I’m diving into the world with a huge safety net at the bottom. And if it fails I’ll just pick myself off the ground. Shake out my arms and check for any broken bones.
I almost have a sick attitude to acting depressed lately. Its easy and fun to me. I’ve only used it as an actual escape once so far. But my body refused and healed back up within hours. I don’t know where all the marks went.
Don’t read it out loud because the sound of my words scare me. You should never hear yourself talk and the echoes are only a lie. (cliche cliche its just a matter of time before we run out of line.)
If I had a wish.
If I had some desire.
It would be to see you smile every day.
I want to you see you fully understand how amazing you are.
And I want you to live up to your abilities and be happy with yourself.
Those are about three different people.
Would you ever take a bullet for someone? I would. I have a list of people I would jump in front of a car for. I don’t see a problem with taking the hit, taking the shot, all that pain. A lot of people are worth that fleeting moment of decision. I wouldn’t hesitate.
I don’t know. I feel different. I feel (not older) but awake. I feel content to an extent. I’m not hidden and that makes me happy. The right people know how fucked up I was (I prefer was because I feel better now). And every day with my thoughts is a happy day. I can still be toppled and shoved down. But I’m separating pain from life now and not letting it control my every waking action.
Every morning you smile.
Every night a kiss.
Knowing you’re loved is enough.
I wish it was me.
I really do.
But its not something I dwell on.
I know who I am.
Its not worth the thought.
That kind of hope it what kills you.
I don’t want to die when someone like you is so beautiful.
Knowing you is the best part of my adulthood.
I know its stupid.
I know its simple and I’m overreacting (again).
I guess you don’t understand the silence (even though you probably do).
I could get up and overcome.
But time has come and gone and I’m still here.
Pictures are pretty.
The sun is setting again.
I can whisper stupid things.
You don’t hate me so life is ok.
Maybe one day I’ll be able to be happy.
Its coming closer.
I don’t care if I’m over the top depressingly crazy.
Its good to talk to people and share dumb things for no other reason then to vent secrets.
Thank you for listening.
It makes me better.
I feel like the target audience for “Friendship is Magic” after writing that. I also feel like calling myself a nerd for reacting like some fucking angel dropped from the sky and saved me by just knowing me. This is stupid (I’m stupid by relation). Feelings suck and I could write 1,000 words about how knowing people make me happy. Man, fuck you guys.
P.S Had to counteract the overreaction with an opposite opposing overreaction to the subject at hand. Don’t you think I’m soft. I just think flowers are badass. Get over it.
P.P.S I’m probably not allowed to call some of these people friends and here I am being a special magical unicorn about them.