I'm scared to even talk to you. Every apathetic lack of a glance hurts more than I could have imagined. You are so wonderful. So special to me. I dont want to be another annoyance in your life. Maybe I should just give up on the notion of us. What a sick, romanticized idea. Us, a two letter word that can hold more distance than an ocean, a vast body of water. A rip tide.

"I'm slowly becoming

I dunno.

Empty. And inside all the space, I am finding myself."

I would never

I could never fake smiling for you. On one hand, you dont deserve me lying to you. Or anyone. On the other, you dont even deserve the effort.

When I'm gone.

I wonder if you'll notice when I'm gone. Or if it will just be like a cold gust of wind that bristles the hair layering your arm. Or if it will be like exhaling smoke as it fades away into a starless sky. Or if it will be like staring into the sun as it blinds you violently.
I'm partial to the possibility of the following: it will be like taking a breath. You wont even notice.

I'm always so surprised when I find out that people actually read this.

response.

I love you. I know you wont believe me; now, more than ever. But I love you. And I mean it. And trust me, I hardly ever mean it. You’re inspiring and unique and different and quirky and cultured and intellectual and flawed and adorable and imperfect and wonderful. I love you. I realize that this wont change anything, but I’d just like you to know that. Because even if you do not acknowledge it, your subconscious has processed it. The thought will rest somewhere in the back of your head, probably to collect dust quietly. Then again, I’m not the best example of self-loving. I’m a mess. But if I could ever be sure of one  single thing, it is my loving admiration for you.

Just thought you ought to know.

oh

You're as deep as a kiddie pool, as shallow as a shower, yet everyone fawns over you. I dont get it. I feel ugly. And insignificant. I cant wait for everything to be over. Its agonizing. I want to curl up with a good book and poor myself into the pages, let the words flood my mind. I feel lost. I feel found. I feel nowhere at all. I feel everywhere around.

To fade away into inexistence,
would be unadulterated bliss.
From kiss stained lips,
to heartstrings' rips.
Bliss I will never know until I die through fire.
Bliss I will never live to acquire.
To fade away and start anew,
that is the life I'd want with you.

Sometimes it feels like my heart is shrinking.

But maybe I'm just mislead.

I feel like you hate me. Me, some incorrigible excuse for an intellect, a beauty, a brawn, a child, a friend, a human being. Why would you ever feel anything towards me but hate? I wish I was enough for you. Why cant I be that interesting? Why cant I catch your eye? I feel like such a bother. Like everytime I talk to you, I'm simply burdening you. Like its an effort to speak. I dont want to bother you. I dont want to fester like a wound. I just want you to be happy.


But I wish you could be happy with me..

Beautiful joy and relief.

I'M DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!! You have to idea the ecstasy I feel after performing The Fairy Godmother. Just pure, unadulterated joy. I'm so relieved.  I'm so happy. I'm so goddamn happy. I feel good about the performance. I mean, I know it wasnt perfect, but it felt good. It felt like how its supposed to feel. I feel so happy.


I hope, I pray: this is just the beginning.