and i wish i could tell you

but what would it matter?

i count for nothing and no matter how many times i realize this, it's forgotten the next day.
if i could just learn to accept it (and stop hoping) maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad every time.

and you think by now it would be monotonous, but the truth is it's like a scab that gets cut open again and again each day.

by now the word 'you' is just a generalization of so many people. it's so hard to be definitive without giving things away. it's so hard to be truthful without setting up ordeals. consequently i feel as if 'you' must have done a lot of things wrong, but it's so many different 'you's that i don't even remember which one is which anymore.

firefly away from here

i pretend like i know you care, when in reality i know that you don't, and in turn it makes me a fool for caring about whether you do or not.

i want to believe you want to be my friend, i want to believe you trust me, i want to believe you even LIKE me, i want to believe things could be normal, i want to believe that i even matter to you.

in truth, in the real world, in my right mind, i know that none of that is true. i know i don't mean anything, barely even a friend - if that.

i wish i could let this go.

i just want to know what i did wrong.

eighty

and so part of me thinks that you just lied all along. and that sounds more tragic than it probably is.

i understand that i'm just bitter but i can't help it, what else am i supposed to think?

this hasn't gone on nearly long enough but it's already so over...

make a wish, make it for me

i haven't figured out if it's a good or a bad thing yet, but it seems that i don't let anything define me. and in turn, i feel like i don't know who i am.
some people let their weight define them, the sickness they have, the sport they play, the music they listen to, the amount of money they have, the place they live.
me? none of that defines me.

i'm just me, and i don't know who i am.

i've been in a writing mood tonight, i don't know what that means.

i miss hearing your voice in my ear all the time. now it never happens. now it seems it never will. now i feel like a part of me is missing that i never realized was embedded so deep.

akinatopsia

maybe, maybe it's that i've become numb to knowing how to say my feelings.
or i've become immune to others' feelings.
or, i guess, i'm just not feeling things as a result of paralysis.

it's hard when it seems there's an end and then there's another beginning.. that started out the same way, except more innocent. usually things get less innocent, have more motives. this time it seems detached and less filled. weird, i guess.

so maybe i'm just scared of this falling apart. cause that would mean me falling apart.
maybe i'm just scared of damaging this beyond repair.

and i know it's unrelated and maybe completely irrelevant, but i just feel like every person besides me is beautiful looking. i don't think i'm supposed to focus so much on physical features but each day i catch myself staring at people, mapping their faces and memorizing it. noticing certain marks on them. even through pictures i am always doing it.

i guess i just don't know how to deal with this constant feeling of being overwhelmed so i am attempting to block it out by being obsessed with fiction.

you know me -- this is nothing new.

everybody lies

take me away

i shouldn't miss this. i really, really shouldn't.
but i do and it's making me think maybe i like setting myself up to be hurt by other people.