fuckyoutoo

Why can't it be understood that any following of a life that I have kept from you for a reason is wrong. It is not a right to know what I am doing, where I am, who I'm with. It's an EARNED privilege to have access to that kind of information. So who the fuck do you think you are to feel entitled?? You see that woman standing over here? You let her go, you took her for granted, you pushed her down, and you made her cry - so FUCK YOU for thinking you deserve ANYTHING. I am not obligated to share my life with you, especially when it's a life you never took the time to appreciate or cherish when you had a hold on it. So tired. So frustrated. So disappointed. And for what? So much wasted energy on someone who can't even give me the respect I have earned.

self-proclaimed fool.

The worry. It follows me around like a lost puppy, always in my mind and on my heel. I wonder what it takes to live a life without it, what a freedom it must be. I imagine the joy of not having to go through the motions of what a real anguish could burden me with... I imagine feeling like I am walking on air. Float through, keep your head high and wave down at those whom feel a right over you. Wave down at the worriers. Up there, it must be something out of this world. All dreams are possible. So what is to stop me of dreaming of no worry? I'm not asking for much... just the ability to walk through unscathed. I suppose in the realm of go-doers that dream might sound foolish. Self-proclaimed fool, I am. Just look at my track record? One foolish step after the other. I have a hundred when, why, what, who, where's... with no answers but the sound of my voice echoing off the walls on the inside of my skull.

can't make me.

It's a sad state of affairs, when the genuine happiness that life's small pleasures brings you, is plagued with guilt. Guilt for what? For being happy, when you are not. I want to take that, and exemplify it. Poke it, prod it, and determine why exactly it feels like that is the most unhealthy thing I've felt in a long time. How dare I! How am I to be grateful, appreciative, happy... who am I to do any of that? Surely I don't deserve happiness... surely I've made a wrong turn somewhere. Or is that what you want me to believe? When has my happiness, or my comfort and my security ever been a priority? I don't dare let it show - hold back from letting it seep into the sound of my voice. Just another strike, another reminder... that it is not what it seems. I get caught in the words, the language used... and I start to believe it. Maybe I am selfish, maybe I am {ENTER insult here} like I so often let myself believe. Or maybe I'm a good person, whose made some mistakes. And maybe, it's okay that I'm happy and that I'm finally starting to understand that I not only earned it.. but I deserve it. Maybe it's time I realized that I don't need another person to do that for me, that I actually like me quite a bit. I have a lot to bring to the table, and no one needs to be holding that table up for me. I'll make my own fucking table. Maybe it's time you stopped trying to bring me down, and maybe try and join me, up here. The air feels cleaner, smells fresher. I'm not coming back down, you can't make me. Self-worth is a wonderful thing to get acquainted with.

words slip away, I never really have them at all. Just passing through, in the vastness of mind that floats around inside my skull. and I'm scared now of what is outside these walls, so scared to take a step in any direction. it's infectious, this misery. I am wary of the oncoming traffic of better intentions... wary of good.

do a little something

It all feels wrong. Every word I write, every song I sing, every sentence that stumbles out of my lips.... nothing adds up, and I'm still lost. No matter how many steps forward I take - there I am, still sitting duck, like a stupid fool. Get a fucking grip lady!!! How can I still be so clouded? It all feels so wrong.