Write and never stop, let it all pour out. So much has been happening, so many thoughts and words that I'd like to say, that I'm too afraid to say. Everything, everyone, scares me. I fear love more than anything. I've been pushing them away, why? Force of habit. I miss you, her, him, them. I can't stand the loneliness that makes my heart ache and my bones shatter. A deep piercing in my chest, low and powerful. Like a single bass note, hitting me square in the heart. I connect with music, I feel with music, I always have and I always will. It's so confusing, but not to me, it shouldn't be. I feel in music, I describe pain as notes and songs and sounds are how I keep myself awake and aware.
As I feel more and write quickly my sentences run together and words become paragraphs become pages and all without commas because I can't stop for breath or I'll forget all I have to say. New topics constantly popping up in my mind, words and feelings that I have no way to explain or describe yet I try so hard, I constantly try, because if I don't do that then how is any of it worth it? Feeling ain't shit unless you know what it means so always think about why you feel and what you feel and is it good or bad and is it healthy for you? Don't let the stalkers in because you won't be able to make them leave and they will follow you and men just don't get it and my mind is bouncing from one place to another. And he thinks saying no is enough but it's not enough, it's never enough, because guys think no means yes or maybe or convince me and they're too damn stubborn to realize sometimes they're not wanted at all. And sometimes they think sex is all there is to it and that's all they care about and really who could be upset at that? when they were just kidding and there's no reason for you to be insulted because honestly I was just joking and really I don't give a fuck anymore because you're being ridiculously rude and disgustingly obnoxious. Think about other people and not just you and your blue dick because I have feelings too and sex isn't what I want in life and you can't say things like that to me and expect me to not get angry especially when you know what I've already been through and you know my self loathing and how I feel about myself because of it, so don't fucking blame me for you being an idiot and an asshole.
Writing cleanses me, and it gives me a place to think without thinking and speak with no filter and it feels so fucking good, so why do I keep stopping the things that make me most happy? And I can never get over how I stop and then when I keep going I always remember how fun it is and then I'm upset that I stopped yet I hardly ever continue. Why is life so tough, why am I so stubborn, yet not determined enough?
As I feel more and write quickly my sentences run together and words become paragraphs become pages and all without commas because I can't stop for breath or I'll forget all I have to say. New topics constantly popping up in my mind, words and feelings that I have no way to explain or describe yet I try so hard, I constantly try, because if I don't do that then how is any of it worth it? Feeling ain't shit unless you know what it means so always think about why you feel and what you feel and is it good or bad and is it healthy for you? Don't let the stalkers in because you won't be able to make them leave and they will follow you and men just don't get it and my mind is bouncing from one place to another. And he thinks saying no is enough but it's not enough, it's never enough, because guys think no means yes or maybe or convince me and they're too damn stubborn to realize sometimes they're not wanted at all. And sometimes they think sex is all there is to it and that's all they care about and really who could be upset at that? when they were just kidding and there's no reason for you to be insulted because honestly I was just joking and really I don't give a fuck anymore because you're being ridiculously rude and disgustingly obnoxious. Think about other people and not just you and your blue dick because I have feelings too and sex isn't what I want in life and you can't say things like that to me and expect me to not get angry especially when you know what I've already been through and you know my self loathing and how I feel about myself because of it, so don't fucking blame me for you being an idiot and an asshole.
Writing cleanses me, and it gives me a place to think without thinking and speak with no filter and it feels so fucking good, so why do I keep stopping the things that make me most happy? And I can never get over how I stop and then when I keep going I always remember how fun it is and then I'm upset that I stopped yet I hardly ever continue. Why is life so tough, why am I so stubborn, yet not determined enough?