Maybe we should burn the house down...
I have the bad habit of releasing too much energy at once. It makes me seem creepy sometimes, needy, leeching. Really, I just want to ensure that my point is kept and acknowledged.
When I think about all the times I've fucked something up, there shines a beacon. I don't want to fuck it up, too... I just want to see you. I want to say all of the things I wish that I could have. There's so much static buzzing in my ears that I can't grasp that same melody. I can't play along with the beat. I have to explode, and in doing so I drive you further away from me.
I know it's been a long time, but hasn't there always been something there? Isn't there a wavelength that we both synchronize on? I remember when there was no inhibition, no caution; words poured out like the most natural of beauties. I miss that. I miss the way you made me feel. The first separation only foretold of what was to come, I guess. Now, I'm not sure that I can relate to you in the same way... I'm not sure you'd want to relate to who I am.
Everything I write resounds with faux desperation. Fake, because it's not what I'm exuding. I simply want my stance to be known, because it's that important to me. You're that important to me. I don't know why anymore, though. As the seasons keep changing, as my mind spins onward, I'm having a harder time reaching you.
Could anyone believe in the sincerity of these words? They boiled from the bottom of my heart until I was covered in my own anxiety, my own nervousness. Even if it makes me sound crazy or desperate or lonely or fake... or stupid, I'm saying it anyway. I miss the way we were, and I'd do anything to bring you back to me. I'll always have faith in who you are, regardless of how you feel. I wish that I could be in the place to take care of you, because I would.
I wish that I could reconnect in that way... so I could see the person I was so in love with for so long, the person I could never forget about... the only person that ever felt real to me. Would you believe me if I said all of this to you? Would you be frightened and weirded out? Would you never speak to me again, because you didn't feel the same way?
I could confess an ocean full of words, of metaphors, of beauty and promise. Maybe they'd only mean something to me....
When I think about all the times I've fucked something up, there shines a beacon. I don't want to fuck it up, too... I just want to see you. I want to say all of the things I wish that I could have. There's so much static buzzing in my ears that I can't grasp that same melody. I can't play along with the beat. I have to explode, and in doing so I drive you further away from me.
I know it's been a long time, but hasn't there always been something there? Isn't there a wavelength that we both synchronize on? I remember when there was no inhibition, no caution; words poured out like the most natural of beauties. I miss that. I miss the way you made me feel. The first separation only foretold of what was to come, I guess. Now, I'm not sure that I can relate to you in the same way... I'm not sure you'd want to relate to who I am.
Everything I write resounds with faux desperation. Fake, because it's not what I'm exuding. I simply want my stance to be known, because it's that important to me. You're that important to me. I don't know why anymore, though. As the seasons keep changing, as my mind spins onward, I'm having a harder time reaching you.
Could anyone believe in the sincerity of these words? They boiled from the bottom of my heart until I was covered in my own anxiety, my own nervousness. Even if it makes me sound crazy or desperate or lonely or fake... or stupid, I'm saying it anyway. I miss the way we were, and I'd do anything to bring you back to me. I'll always have faith in who you are, regardless of how you feel. I wish that I could be in the place to take care of you, because I would.
I wish that I could reconnect in that way... so I could see the person I was so in love with for so long, the person I could never forget about... the only person that ever felt real to me. Would you believe me if I said all of this to you? Would you be frightened and weirded out? Would you never speak to me again, because you didn't feel the same way?
I could confess an ocean full of words, of metaphors, of beauty and promise. Maybe they'd only mean something to me....
posted by Anonymous at 7:02 PM
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