Its hard to want something so much
and not at all. Its hard to wish you were someone else, because then maybe things would fall into place, right?
Sometimes I still ask myself if I have a solid grip on who I really am. An identity crisis of the week, maybe I should dye my hair green…
I don’t know what I want, but I do know what i want. I don’t know who I am, but I most definately know exactly who I am. And maybe that scares me?
Maybe I’m not so good, or so great. I’m bland. I’m boring. I’m the oatmeal in the skittles isle.I’m dark. I’m wrong; I’m wrong and that hurts. My pride, my ego, is cut down, because I’m like a fucking God. And no amount of ridicule could knock me down…but oh….rejection could….those oceans in your eyes…they knock me down in a heartbeat. They cut me down to something humble…no something vulnerable and weak. She still lives there deep inside of me.
I want to stand out and say here I am,like an attraction of neon signs and plastic;
and yet not be seen at all.
He, is unobtainable. He is lost behind my eyes. And he is what I’m stuck thinking of when I’m drunk at night. So why is he what I think of when I’m trying to think of myself?