I'm desperately searching an outlet
But you act
and you write
and you paint
and sometimes, when no one hears it, you even sing
I have enough outlets, but i can't let myself out
I don't come out
Maybe that's the thing
Maybe that's where the problem lies
But I still search
I try to craft my feelings away
And then, on better days I feel so confident
I am my own outlet
My own porthole
But what about these other days?
I don't have time
Again, I should long be asleep
I feel like school's eating me
And I just add the salt and pepper
I think I sat here for too long looking at and deleting old pictures, some of which really were a way for me to express myself and erasing them for ever (at least from my phone) left me with a sad feeling. I also came across pictures of the boys from my drama club who left school two years ago and who I really looked up to which amplified this sadness. Oh, sweet (mild) dysphoria I'll probably never conquer...
