Secure everything around me and I still won’t feel safe. I think I’m getting used to everyone leaving and I’m so scared of what effect it’s going to take on me the day someone says they’ll stay and they’ll mean it.
Please, I just want to know the difference one day.
I think the thing that gets to me most is that I can’t answer the word why.
I can continue to say it, but it won’t make anything clearer.
I’m scared of living any longer, and I don’t know how to say it any other way. So I’ll just type it and keep living like you do.
I’ll let you in and I’ll let you take away all feeling I’ve had left.
And just when I learn to love again, I’ll do it all again.
I’ll let you, and I still don’t know why…
Paranoia is only an overthink of lifes already unorganised platter of dishonesty and a game of hide and seek.
Oh but Anxiety is just the world telling you everything carefully in another dialect.
The above is a lie. I lied, because that was the world is. And lie, it’s all it comes down to.
I always talked about this final breaking moment. But I think this is actually it, or extremely close to.
I know when I hide from writing that something’s really up.
And now I know why I brought my pen along just this time.
It seemed as I was almost waiting for it.
Challenging my mind to see if it was telling the truth or feeding me lies, to see if it was really going to do what we both thought together for.
And now I know it was.
I had been putting the pieces of everybody’s skulls back like it was my deed to do, like it was a fine art that needed years of practice and trial and error to get just wrong, just right. And I think it’s time to locate the cells I misplaced.
And now… I know nothing.
I want to break away from such a harsh reality.
Dreaming in sequences.
A beauty beyond most peripherals.
Your words are only a re assurance of the person I’ve become. Or stayed. You’ll think I’ve changed, you’ll think I know better. I’m the rotten apple at the bottom of your bin. And I’m the decaying ruin hidden well away from beautiful eyes.
I know I’ve fucked everything up, oh I am very aware. I can almost convince every single person I meet I am okay, and level headed and I should be the one taking care of you and giving you advice. When really, I know I’m the one that needs it most. I know I’m the one at breaking levels dangerously close to the bottom constantly. I know I fuck with other people, I don’t know exactly why yet but I hurt people. I hurt people and that’s just what I do. I will only hope that one day, I can learn… because I know everything I need to to change and I still don’t use it. I just won’t stop saying ‘I don’t know’ because in the end, that’s all it comes down to. The fact, that, I… really… do not know. A thing, about anything, about you, or me, or why we are the way we are. I don’t know the answers. I don’t think I ever well.
The only purity one can really obtain is their fear.
It might take years to understand, but when you do… you’ll understand me too.
Nothing else will be clear, a series of confrontations through lies and dishonesty, loss of trust and never knowing how to say goodbye.
