i cant really explain where i am right now.

it's confusing.

trust has become hard for me, did you know that?

harder than before, i mean.

something is telling me that it should be, and im not the only one, i shouldn't complain, blah blah.

but bullshit to that.

i'll win.

i'm in a warm room. there's no fire.

the acid is all gone. it's in a book. the book is on a shelf.

and one day i will burn it.

when im ready.

maybe the plume of smoke will rise, rise higher than anything, higher than the clouds, and it'll be seen by all the right people.

but that's too poetic for words.

i am a man.

and men endure. as must everyone.

love.

fire

so i'm falling.

or it feels like i am. down a pit, the sides are uneven like its been dug in a hurry, and i'm hurtling down.

the wind hurts, but not as much as the sides do. there should be room to fall but i hit the sides all the time.

the acid is with me. it doesn't hurt, because it's mine. keeping it in is difficult, because it's acid. you can't do anything with it except make it stronger or destroy things.

i don't want either.

but why is it mine to deal with?

it's not mine.

it's yours. and if i asked it to, it would kill you.

my candleflame is going out. it's so small, where once it made a glorious light.

did i fuck this up or did you?

why is it even important?

why can't you leave me alone in my own head?

headaches and back aches and stomach pains.

these are where thinking leads.

if the flame goes out, so do i.

and i'll never get it lit again.

maybe that would be better. flames just attract attention.

today I let some of my anger at you out.

and shit.

there's a lot of it.

and there's nowhere to send it.

it's backed up and stuck. it's huge.

i didn't think there was room for this much rage in me.

you did a fantastically shit thing to me, and you don't deserve this rage.

but if you don't deserve it, why is it all for you?

i hope we never meet again.

i don't want to be responsible for your pain.

Inarticulatable

Taken from a long way away

and time doesn't seem subject

but always the effort involved

seems worth it.

I am tired of this. Because looking back at this blog is like looking back on mistakes and sad times.

My head is mostly full when I am thinking about you all.

Words cannot express.

About A Girl

That feeling's back.

It's not as strong as it was. But it's there.

I miss you.

You haven't been around lately, and I miss you.

I'm unafraid to say it.

But let's be honest. You don't miss me. You're happy with who you are.

And I'm scared and upset over how easy it's become to accept that of people.

That they leave.

They disappoint.

They fuck up and leave you disenchanted.

This is stone.

This is hardness.

And I can't change the way people think.

The way people are.

The way you used to look at me was all in my head.

The way you look through me now is all that's left.

And I am savagely glad.

xxxx

You had the aptitude to return sentiment,

but not the inclination to act on it.

Cowardice? Apathy? Manipulation?

Now we'll never know.

'Fortune favours the brave.'

help

im trapped in my own life.