Every signal I send is wrong. I am afraid again, afraid, and i cannot tell what will happen except that i will be unhappy, and that's surely no surprise? none of them will care if i make an appearance or no, and if even one did i might feel less forgotten, is it my fate to be forgotten? i cannot bear it i cannot and i do it with a regularity and dedication that surprises, the pushing away; i will go about it as systematically as war, because of course it is war only i am my only enemy and i will drive them away every one until i'm all alone again. if there were a single person who could call me on it i would cry, i would try, i would die and not be so miserable, perhaps. am i so hard to read? predictable perhaps i am but the one who would call me on it i do not care about i do not care now but tomorrow i will cry when he forgets because that is all my life is about it's the regrets and that's why i will always be an idiot and die in despair. define despair? it is the state i am in every time i stop forcing myself to see the world in pretty hues.
the funny thing is i am all those things, happy and unhappy and friendly and churlish and it never depends on me, only the person drawing me out; but they still will not see because who gives a shit about me anyway not one of them not one though i would give anything to go back to the beginning and undo the whole thing it was bad enough with the real live people i cannot bear to have every virtual relationship travel the same path, no.
and i will write here these stupid words crying out for attention like little starving babies with big bellies, and i will still tell no one and continue to go to bed with heart heavy and weary and weeping.
And the ones i want to have asking about me have all gone, gone; gone away and forgotten and i cannot understand why i have to still hang on except perhaps that they cannot leave and will not and my head is a cruel and cold place to be right now.
i want a chest i can bury my face in and never step away from, only i am not ready for love or anything approaching, and i am baby still; naïve, stupid, insensitive.
why have you forsaken me?
the funny thing is i am all those things, happy and unhappy and friendly and churlish and it never depends on me, only the person drawing me out; but they still will not see because who gives a shit about me anyway not one of them not one though i would give anything to go back to the beginning and undo the whole thing it was bad enough with the real live people i cannot bear to have every virtual relationship travel the same path, no.
and i will write here these stupid words crying out for attention like little starving babies with big bellies, and i will still tell no one and continue to go to bed with heart heavy and weary and weeping.
And the ones i want to have asking about me have all gone, gone; gone away and forgotten and i cannot understand why i have to still hang on except perhaps that they cannot leave and will not and my head is a cruel and cold place to be right now.
i want a chest i can bury my face in and never step away from, only i am not ready for love or anything approaching, and i am baby still; naïve, stupid, insensitive.
why have you forsaken me?
1 comment:
lamentations of an ice maiden!
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