Lately, I've been writing alot. There is so much to say. I feel like a wind trapped in a wooden box waiting to finally get the strength to break loose. My words represent my strength. But, somehow there is still some words stuck inside me. I have the need to say something, but I don't quite know what it is. It's just stuck. This may be why I keep writing and writing and writing. My words seem so useless right about now. I feel like they don't contain the strength I need to bust out of these morbid, depressing chains. I wanna search inside me for what really wants to be said. A story maybe? A complaint? An apology? I don't know.


Minutes pass by...


I think I have found my answer. I am scared. I'm scared of what may be and what may not be. Am I losing my touch? Are the lights slowly dimming? I lay on my bed wishing I knew the answers to my questions. I feel so hurt by nothing. Am I becoming less of an upbeat person? What is going on... I find myself constantly doubting my capabilities and comparing them to others. It's becoming out of hand. I don't want to pretend to be something I'm not but being myself isn't suiting what once was.


I feel so alive yet so closed in.

I wanna ask you the question. I want to work it into a conversation but Im afraid you will take great defense. It hurts waking up to the same unanswered thoughts. Somehow you always make me forget.


Im not blind. I can see it with my own two eyes. I can feel it in my heart. But I wont let it be, i choose to ignore it. I dont want to acknowledge it, i want you to. But i dont think that will happen. I try to push this thought out of my head with endless reminders of things that were said but in the end its sly body wraps around the end of your words. Im only wishing for truth, not for happiness. Just truth.