if everything we say has been said
if everything we think has been thought
what is the point?
who cares?

the futility of the meaningless in the words
that have no depth

and i want to stop
but i keep searching

there is nothing romantic about being lost
the danger, the possibility
i could see it, the big sign but i can't get out
it goes round and round in a circle
and i cannot leave

this is not a poem
I just turned 20 and i feel lost and still do not have my **** together as I feel like all 20 years old do and should
if you are of age or older
please leave your advice, stories, words below

at this point, anything would help to keep me from freaking out about my impending doom
i appreciate it
and look forward to hearing from you soon

love,
anna

you were like a van Gogh painting
so colorful and vibrant but always so melancholy
and i couldn't always figure out what and why
but perhaps that's why i found you so beautiful

they say that when a goblin cries
it pours even in the brightest morning
when a goblin smiles
flowers bloom even in the midst of winter

My dreams were always vague, simple
to be happy
to lead and live the life I was meant to lead
to save the world

those whispered thoughts kept in the small vials of my heart
kept me going and kept me working
for an obscure THE DREAM

but I think, I finally found THE DREAM
secured it inside the confined space between my hands  
i  know now what I want and was meant to become

and THE DREAM scares me, worries me, stresses me at the sake of failure and my insignificance and my insufficiency
but most of all it flutters the sleeping butterflies and churns the blood of my tired silent heart

*and I simply can't wait for it to be real