The world has moved on and I am fixated on one **** detail. A blank stare that lasted maybe two seconds before he carried on with his work. The look was indescribable because the expression was void of emotion. This is incredibly ridiculous, but I am so horrifically bothered by it. That **** expression. This **** minor occurrence has somehow managed to ruin my day. But here's the thing - this is routine for me. I know myself too well. I will be incredibly self-conscious from now on in that space. So many things go past that man, but my stupid digressions didn't. I am a victim of over-analysis. I will patiently wait for the day my memory will finally let this go.

Feelings can be ignored because it's a choice.
You can choose what to feel.
But ignoring feelings are like an itch you want to scratch,
a thread that is visibly hanging loose that you want to pull or the urge to sneeze.*
*Feelings can be ignored, but they will always come to bother you.
You can ignore feelings, but you can't deny that you are feeling them.

It's nothing,
No, it's something.
Nagging and pulling,
Prodding with its insistence.
Distracting me,
Making me turn my attention to it.
"Surely not" I said.
It continued.
Bothered by it,
I decided to listen.
Wondering,
"How can this be?"
I've known him for so long,
But he's been a friend.
A good friend,
One who doesn't hurt you.
But I suppose that's why,
That's why I can't focus.
That's why I'm distracted,
Because I'm in love with him.

you are like toothpaste
i stick on my face
that wont come off for a whole day
i wish you where the ending.
when i whipe it off
the pimples have gone away.
you are like my mind
you never shut up

of trying to keep a schedule
trying to stay updated
pleasing my **** fans

im getting sort of tired
of trying to be... "deep"
"thought-provoking"
and "pithy"

**** that.

i do not write to please you
i do not write because i want "votes"
and "comments"

i do not write to even keep my sanity in check
not anymore

i write because something nags me so much
that i either turn it into words

or **** myself

simple as that.

so please
please do not think
that my oh-so-romantic poetic suffering
is all for you

it's not.
it most definitely is not.

Still wages at my mind;
Why am I so kind?
Next time, He asks,
Tell him, "Kiss my behind!"