I’m not an angry person,
I’m just an irritable perfectionist.
Haha. I’ve told myself this lie for so long, but I’ve now come to realize that it’s the same thing.
It’s happening again.
I’m alone in this body
And stuck in my head.
I’m unable to cope
I’m filled with violent dread
And I’m glued to my bed.
I’m left wondering why this is happening again.
I feel irritable
for no reason at all.
I can’t shake this feeling
of wanting to scream my head off.
I feel unstable, like
the smallest thing could set me off.
Every noise, not matter how big
or how small
grates on my ears,
and fills me with anger.
My body quivers with unease,
my hands fidget incessantly.
can’t seem to dull the things around me.
I want to pull my hair out.
I want to scratch and yank at my skin.
My body doesn’t feel like it’s mine,
I feel uncomfortable. My skin is crawling.
Stop asking me what’s wrong,
I can’t give you an answer.
I could tear myself apart,
piece by piece.
All due to this feeling,
of being overly full
I’m back in my same chair again
and still I study the leaves
and meditate what they mean.
If everyone says the same, doesn't it mean it’s true?
What if the planet is telling me this one thing
and each and every star is echoing the same thing,
so it must be true and then it must be fact.
That means something.
I felt every second and every minute of each hour,
and you can’t even imagine the boredom at the bottom of my stomach;
patch me up and fill me up with something worthy.
Ain’t that somethin’ real?
If everyone says so and it’s worthy of my time,
ain’t it real?
But isn’t that something true to me?
The view, the raw feeling it gives me inside.
The itch I can’t reach and the gnawing inside my stomach,
And the fact that I can’t grasp what I need and it kills me;
And now I’m disturbed and I’m sick and I can’t figure out.
What is this bothering me? Is this something for me?
Tailored, sewn, and pressed for me?
I end my night on my roof,
the stars at my fingertips and the moon as my pillow;
the moon soaking me with a cleansing glow;
the shower up here felt so amazing.
There’s nothing like this type of view.
He needs somebody to love him better than all the others do.
Maybe the reason I've been offline so often
is not because I'm trying to start a life but,
because it reminds me that you and I are dying out.
I was born.
I am still living it down.
I didn't WAKE UP in a bad mood...
Everyone loves her,
Her actions and her words.
She's "Little miss popular"
Just because her tongue never slurs.
She's intimidating, and rude too.
She thinks she's incomparable,
Although she has a lot of things she needs to improve.
Her friends laugh at every word she says,
But I think the only reason they smile, is because they're afraid.
— The End —