I do want to be her, yesterdays
I am really hoping my words don't offend anymore, anyone either. I just need to say them. I just need to express that I am hurt. Shocked, too. But not really too surprised.
I can't really talk because my face is as red as a beet and worse. My nose is stuffy and my throat is dry. I really don't know how to explain the feelings inside. Just that plainness of hurt. The depth of it is something I can't describe. All I can say is that even my tongue is dry just trying to figure out how to coerce words from my mind.
The way unsettling emotions of pain, they make me write more. Make me express me and all that is within. May not make sense or sound like its directed to certain people but seriously most often times it is random or even one person in particular.
I don't like to argue. I hate conflict. I won't be upfront about my emotions because most of it is a mixture of days or weeks of crude settling inside of me.
So did I write, today, about anyone. Yes. Me. My wants and disgusts of how I can't be important to some people. So yeah I get angry. I get teary eyed. I sniffle. I drip but eventually I calm down. I move on. Every breath may hurt for a while but I become mellow.
Sometimes just the NEED to express all that has been dead weights inside my head. Just compelled to lay it all out. Some times the regrets of who I am now verses that of the past. Sometimes I miss that woman in the past. Sometimes I rather be her. Especially if it would get me what I want.
Ha. As I listen to the words in that last sentence. Yeah I can't be her. In fact my friends would say you don't want to be your past. No yes. Yes no. Many yes scream inside of me. For so many reasons.
I do want to be her. I would actually get a few things and be satisfied. Be quite content to get those specific things because I wouldn't have to be so concerned about other things. Seriously, though, what would be the cost? I still would lose. Wouldn't really get what I wanted.
That too would be denied. Typical.
The ode of womanhood. The ode of being a shrew. Ugh. Ode to being a weird, messed up person. Typical. Then not so typical.
Certainly I would risk it all just for that moment. Alas not all are willing so much. I sigh.
I still have no means of sleep. Maybe early morning gym practice or just getting out. Go be involved in the world and absorb the noises and beauty of it all.
Yes. A quiet part of me says I miss what I had. Yes. Loud parts of me say I can never have the goodness, richness of what I had. I must settle.
Accept. Be odd. Be contrary. Be quiet. Be me.
So though, would I dare explain to you what I want, open up your head and see why? I betcha it would shock you. Then I would lose that too.
Oh well. Truth is best kept quiet when no one is listening. Right?
I can't really talk because my face is as red as a beet and worse. My nose is stuffy and my throat is dry. I really don't know how to explain the feelings inside. Just that plainness of hurt. The depth of it is something I can't describe. All I can say is that even my tongue is dry just trying to figure out how to coerce words from my mind.
The way unsettling emotions of pain, they make me write more. Make me express me and all that is within. May not make sense or sound like its directed to certain people but seriously most often times it is random or even one person in particular.
I don't like to argue. I hate conflict. I won't be upfront about my emotions because most of it is a mixture of days or weeks of crude settling inside of me.
So did I write, today, about anyone. Yes. Me. My wants and disgusts of how I can't be important to some people. So yeah I get angry. I get teary eyed. I sniffle. I drip but eventually I calm down. I move on. Every breath may hurt for a while but I become mellow.
Sometimes just the NEED to express all that has been dead weights inside my head. Just compelled to lay it all out. Some times the regrets of who I am now verses that of the past. Sometimes I miss that woman in the past. Sometimes I rather be her. Especially if it would get me what I want.
Ha. As I listen to the words in that last sentence. Yeah I can't be her. In fact my friends would say you don't want to be your past. No yes. Yes no. Many yes scream inside of me. For so many reasons.
I do want to be her. I would actually get a few things and be satisfied. Be quite content to get those specific things because I wouldn't have to be so concerned about other things. Seriously, though, what would be the cost? I still would lose. Wouldn't really get what I wanted.
That too would be denied. Typical.
The ode of womanhood. The ode of being a shrew. Ugh. Ode to being a weird, messed up person. Typical. Then not so typical.
Certainly I would risk it all just for that moment. Alas not all are willing so much. I sigh.
I still have no means of sleep. Maybe early morning gym practice or just getting out. Go be involved in the world and absorb the noises and beauty of it all.
Yes. A quiet part of me says I miss what I had. Yes. Loud parts of me say I can never have the goodness, richness of what I had. I must settle.
Accept. Be odd. Be contrary. Be quiet. Be me.
So though, would I dare explain to you what I want, open up your head and see why? I betcha it would shock you. Then I would lose that too.
Oh well. Truth is best kept quiet when no one is listening. Right?
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