Why can’t I say what I think?
Is it so hard to flow?
Random and Ramble, don’t hear me please.
I’ll regret what I said.
Awkward, crumbled, blemished, and bruised.
Words that I use prove useless as I slaughter every word I say.
Helplessly hoping that senseless sentences will hold what I mean.
Even words can’t describe my frustration of everything.
My stories hold no weight to my true thoughts.
They stand no where close to what I think.
How can I be confused at what I say and what comes from my own mouth.
Put me out of my misery, sew my mouth, bind my hands for even by typing I slaughter words.
Save yourselves from the horrors of reading my thoughts, posts comments and chat messages. leave me alone because my standards for myself always contradict my personality
It is my voice and my sliver of dignity that I have lost.
Call me a useless bag of trash; for all I know I could be one.
I hardly speak and when I do it’s useless rubbish that I always regret saying.
At this point, I’m so frustrated.
I beat myself up and hope someone will feel sorry for me.
Maybe I’m going overboard and exaggerating, but I don’t care.
I’ve disgustingly discovered that I will never live up to my standards.
And I will just try until the day I die.
I don’t blame the people around me, who I don’t deserve in my life.
I don’t blame God, who I undeservingly have the privilege to worship.
But I blame myself for how self-centered I am.
Am I blaming God purposefully, no..
Crazy how it starts as a speech and turns into me talking about how negative I am, but what’s the use? I’ll always doubt myself, and hate the choices that I take. I will try to change them until I take my last breath. I will try with all my heart.
Mark my words I will believe in myself one day, and speak loudly with something interesting to say. I will love who I am, and know who I am. I will be confident and accept my mistakes instead of holding them in and crying about what I won’t change. I will be someone who believes in happy endings and unconditional love. And I will know it’s possible to love. No matter how much I doubt it now. I know it exists, but it excludes me. I don’t believe that anyone should ever feel it for me. But one day I will know in my heart that God loves me, and that, yes, a person from this earth who meets my needs and loves me for who I will be. It’s unimaginable and fairytale like now and it seems my whole life will be a christmas eve until I find them. I will be someone, someday, and I will know.
( I was 12 )
One response to “Someday / A Journal of Sorts / 2010”
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