My mind is my mortal enemy. It keeps suggesting things I know not to be true. I speak like poetry, words flowing from my lips when I know they are all lies. I am deeply conflicted. I am a hypocrite. I am afraid. I fuck everything up. I don't want to be me. I don't want to follow the path I've set myself on. The truth is, that I am nothing. I pump myself full of life, when all I do is slowly die inside.
Marc is great. When I'm not with him, I secretly wonder if he's examining my flaws and finding reasons to hate me. I know I worry too much. I know he likes me. I'm so afraid to let myself open wide and let someone inside because history is just a reflection of the future, isn't it? I like him, but I don't want to ruin him.
People think I'm so fucking happy all the time. I'm not. I'm so depressed, I don't even remember what happiness feels like. The small things keep me going, and I'm definitely okay with that. Whatever works. Whatever keeps me alive. I want to find out my purpose. Is it to bring words to the world? A new perspective, a fresh face? Darkness resides in all of us, I just feel like I have a deeper understanding of mine.
I repeat myself like a broken record, every mistake I just make again. I want to tell you everything, but I'm afraid you'll just end up running. Slow and surely? Or do I just zip my lip and let the moment last? I feel like I'm ruining everything with every word I say. So much in common, yet galaxies apart. My star shines dimly in my heart, but doesn't that just mean it's waiting for it's moment to shine?
I smell like him. Like his skin. It brings back memories of every action and how it could've been improved. I overthink. I roadkill. I move too fast and I get so scared. Easily invested into projects, I feel like I over-love. I over-share. I over-indulge. I don't know what I am, I just feel like an animal. A baby cub, I fumble stupidly over new found projects. I have not yet learned the world, but I already know of it's pain.
I have so many flaws and it's all I can ever concentrate on. My breathing becomes shallow and I struggle to find a reason to keep going. I try to grasp anything at all that comes my way, thinking maybe this will be happiness. It never comes true. Will I ever have a happily ever after? I am a secret cynic. My stripes hidden beneath the folds of my fake smiles.
He makes me smile. But how long will that last?
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