It bothers me.
I contemplated for a while on whether to pull my notebook back out and actually write what was on my mind. I wondered if i would regret anything i said tomorrow morning, because of whatever mood i was in that night. I thought about a lot of things, and decided expressing myself should never become a regret.
It bothers me; the distance, the drama, the indeciciveness... it bothers me how little i know, yet how fascinated i am. I’m always left wanting more.
It bothers me not many people read what i have to say. Yet, flipping the situation around proves i’m a hypocrite. The lack of words, bothers me.
Sometimes just being myself bothers me. My genuineness comes into question. All the useless job applications i fill out on a day to day basis breaks this open...lies spill out like ink on paper. Surveys, questionairres, all asking me the same thing. My answer being, yes i am a fraud yet i’d kill for a job that makes me happy. Misery loves company. Want to be mine?
Can you be mine? Would you? I dont deserve such things anyway.
i try to give advice to others, but cannot even take my own advice and actually follow it. I was always a firm believer of ‘looking right under my nose’ for the special things in life i may overlook on a day to day basis. From experience, being overlooked is a god awful feeling. Not being given the time of day, because why? Someone thinks they’re better than you? I dont think i’m better than anyone, at least i dont think i do... now what am i? An overlooker. Perhaps I have something, er...someone right there, but i hate it. Mostly because i have someone else on the mind. Exactly the thing i fucking hate, i’ve become. I lost sight, went astray, committed murders and sins, and it seems I’m back to square one. It bothers me.
Call me a whore, it suits me well. I wear it like a black eye. But why? Do i stand out at all to you? Im more confused than anything. It means something to me. I’m a sucker like i said, but please don’t prove me right. What can i do? It truly feels like high school all over again. I want to avoid it all, start from where we left off...
Does it mean anything to you?
It bothers me. I never said a bad word concerning you. I never would. There’s still something. An innocence... I couldn’t hurt you. I would never want to. I cant even use the word darling. Anytime i type the word, even accidentally... you. No one else recieves such treatment and care. Just remember that.
Im not normal, i’ve said from day one. I put it out in the open, that i’m not the typical twenty something male test subject. I think, feel, and express emotions. I’ve heard slivers of things that give me false hope.
I like you too.
I’ve said it. It bothers me, but what can i do? Is it all too real now, yet not real enough at the same time? So it would seem.
I’ve said too much. I always fear exposure. Vulnerability equals weakness. The more i write, the less i want to show you. It’s too late now, the show must go on.
Everything bothers me.
