"I dont know what it is about me that interests you..."
I repeat this to myself, constantly, almost religously, and why could i, when i consider myself a mistery... I'm not... that misterious at all am i? I'm socially accepted by mostly everybody but, still i feel out of place. I approach you with caution with fear that you wont recognize me. One day im loveable, the next day im a creep, day after that im sensitive, day after that im too busy to care about anything. I'm tired, not of you but of me, and this transitional storyline that goes without sayin is... pathetic.
Review my life now, would you? What do i have as an accomplishment?.... Sigh, Sigh, Sigh all you want, but you kno you have something to tell.. right? I'm angry, and happy, and sad, and im alive... which means im grateful.
Im inlove with denial, obsessed with regret, a hard crush with insecurity. I found you, didnt i? Then why cant i... why cant you... ill think this through, over and over again... but in the end its the same, i just pour my feelings out onto a keyboard, i think, i write, i erase, i write again... I think, I do... I did? i cant.. erase... I do again. F word.
Shivers down my spine, blood rushes to my cheeks, im still not complete, i have dreams i have needs i have wants, i have only a few haves, i need more needs. Young adult my ass.