Screaming, shouting, fighting,
With myself.
wondering why I choose to moderate, tolerate and reconcile with everyone and everything in my life.
I wish I could tell people how I really feel.
Tell them that: No I don't want to do something.
No, I don't want to talk.
No, I don't want to be nice.
No, I don't want to be polite or thoughtful or fucking considerate.
NO.
I wish I could tell people to take their wants and needs and go fuck off.
Because you know what?
I don't really care.
I don't. Really.
Do I?
I mean, maybe I pretend I do.
Maybe I'm just pretending to do things, be someone, who really, I am not.
Because people don't understand me. Not the real me anyways.
So I wish... wish I could do and say all these crazy, unrealistic things... and be this unrealistic person... But I can't.
I can't break my parents expectations nor hurt those around me.
It is my burden to carry in this life, this feeling of being out of place, and out of time.
Hiding within myself... dying this slow death of normalcy.
Feeling things I can't voice - screaming so loud yet no one can hear,
All these thoughts and emotions swirling and squeezing my heart dry.
Oh what webs do we weave when we lie to deceive.... more so when we lie to ourselves about who we might be.
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