Some things are better left to tomorrow...
Why did this week have to be the week? I am lost and sad and lonely this week. I don't know the answers, I don't know how to fix things. My heart is breaking cause I don't know how to fix, I don't know the problem, I don't know at all... I don't know, and I feel so blinded. I feel transparent. I don't know what I need, I don't know at all. I just know that something is different this week that is driving me crazy, pulling things out of me that I didn't know were still there. Making me miss things. Perhaps I love people too much. And perhaps I am just terrible at showing it.
I'm trying to think of all the things that were my fault, and there are many...
i can't, i can't understand why i am so transparent, so ordinary, so meaningless now. i admit, i can't understand that.
everything in my body hurts. everything in my mind hurts. everything in my heart hurts. i don't laugh at the same things anymore. I don't smile the same way.
I don't know why I am writing this... perhaps my only way at attempting to be less invisible. i don't know why it still matters. i don't know anything, i don't know what to do...
are people out there?! are you out there??!? i just want to be found, and not lost anymore... not the background. i am worth more than that...
i am worth many things...
2 Comments:
That sounds true and deep. I like the word 'transparent' a lot. It's courageous.
And here I was one of those who found you... but am I really worth :) or were you looking to be found by someone in particular...
So, quiet as despair I turned from him,
That hateful cripple, out of his highway
Into the path he pointed. All the day
Had been a dreary one at best, and dim
Was settling to its close, yet shot one grim
Red leer to see the plain catch its estray.
For mark! No sooner was I fairly found
Pledged to the plain, after a pace or two,
Than, pausing to throw backwards a last view
O'er the safe road, 'twas gone; grey plain all round;
Nothing but plain to the horizon's bound.
I might go on, naught else remained to do.
So on I went. I think I never saw
Such starved ignoble nature; nothing throve:
For flowers - as well expect a cedar grove!
But cockle, spurge, according to their law
Might propagate their kind with none to awe,
You'd think; a burr had been a treasure trove.
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