Jul 2014
Because no matter how hard I try, no matter how many times I rub my eyes and try to look at it again, I still see that the small things I do has nothing compared to the size of what others can create and have mastered. Comparing just can't be helped.
You know what? You have managed to prove to me that it's better being alone than to try being around people. I don’t need to hear lies while reading my science fiction novel. I don't need to see fake smiles when I watch cartoons. People these days must be incapable of being aware of someone's important presence. A certain someone who wants to be heard because the blood in them boils and cleanses dirt to the top of my brain and clogs my heart. The way I work every waking moment with my hands craving the board to wood shavings to be noticed. The way I open both my time, time he can never spend again for myself under that Narra tree I love, and money; Money that he earned by setting aside a coin per day.
Accepted? I think you just want to finish a good deed out of nothing. Please don't lie to me. Please. I know how sad I am and I won't recover because there are a lot of people like you. The world thrives in this form of self-pity. There are a lot who get away with it. Believe me. I see it now and every day. Every single charity time. At one point, you will always go together and I will always be alone. You will never get to that end with me because you stop it with your circles. You stop it together. You left it at that.
And now....I only wish to die...To die slowly and to know that I don’t need to do anything about it. The way I was given cake. It had corners for others. You could turn it to see other names. You are exclusive. It wasn't special. It was trick. I was abandoned.
You call me selfish? And even after all the times were I was singled out by your dates and the way you would mouth yourselves in time wrapped in spending talks and little footprints to cover your tracks. Yet you still dare to call me selfish. I? I am dying. I am dying because of the air you breathe. The air that you use to laugh in and breathe into a joke or loud noises of whatever shoe or color your hair could be. I needed it to survive. I needed it to stay alive. I want to help those , in fact, those who are like me dying slowly from the air that was once there’s and now revolves around the popular. And you have the gull, the audacity? The stubborn seedlingness..to call me selfish?!
Yes. I want to explode. I want the noise to be heard but then when you come to look for its origin, you will find no trace. I want the outward noise to block the concrete sound of your rash and irrational blurt outs because you care about the others that are your other halves. Me? You will never find me. I. Am. Done. Gone.
And Well played.
You know what? You have managed to prove to me that it's better being alone than to try being around people. I don’t need to hear lies while reading my science fiction novel. I don't need to see fake smiles when I watch cartoons. People these days must be incapable of being aware of someone's important presence. A certain someone who wants to be heard because the blood in them boils and cleanses dirt to the top of my brain and clogs my heart. The way I work every waking moment with my hands craving the board to wood shavings to be noticed. The way I open both my time, time he can never spend again for myself under that Narra tree I love, and money; Money that he earned by setting aside a coin per day.
Accepted? I think you just want to finish a good deed out of nothing. Please don't lie to me. Please. I know how sad I am and I won't recover because there are a lot of people like you. The world thrives in this form of self-pity. There are a lot who get away with it. Believe me. I see it now and every day. Every single charity time. At one point, you will always go together and I will always be alone. You will never get to that end with me because you stop it with your circles. You stop it together. You left it at that.
And now....I only wish to die...To die slowly and to know that I don’t need to do anything about it. The way I was given cake. It had corners for others. You could turn it to see other names. You are exclusive. It wasn't special. It was trick. I was abandoned.
You call me selfish? And even after all the times were I was singled out by your dates and the way you would mouth yourselves in time wrapped in spending talks and little footprints to cover your tracks. Yet you still dare to call me selfish. I? I am dying. I am dying because of the air you breathe. The air that you use to laugh in and breathe into a joke or loud noises of whatever shoe or color your hair could be. I needed it to survive. I needed it to stay alive. I want to help those , in fact, those who are like me dying slowly from the air that was once there’s and now revolves around the popular. And you have the gull, the audacity? The stubborn seedlingness..to call me selfish?!
Yes. I want to explode. I want the noise to be heard but then when you come to look for its origin, you will find no trace. I want the outward noise to block the concrete sound of your rash and irrational blurt outs because you care about the others that are your other halves. Me? You will never find me. I. Am. Done. Gone.
And Well played.
