You know when everything’s going wrong and people ask you what’s going on?
And when you look in the mirror and you can see the scars from all the fake smiling, when all the scars are etched in your heart?
That’s exactly how I feel sometimes. Particularly now.
Because there are those times when your only desire is to be alone and you force yourself to participate, to the point that you’re part of the tapestry and you know it, and yet you do everything you can not to. Many of those times it’s not such a good idea. You end up doing things so wrong that even you ask yourself why. And yet….
Tonight I behaved just like a puppy. A selfish, hopeless puppy, which begs love and gets….something. And still considers it not enough.
Often we don’t get what we want. Often, we don’t appreciate what we do get from life. Too often. As of tonight I officially am an idiot, not unlike thousands of other times. You see, the fact that I feel so lost and yet pretend I have a purpose puts me in a hard place. I’m risking a lot being myself. Somehow I got a great group of friends and I’m wasting the good times I could have with them to go after…who knows. I know. Deep down I know. I know I’m –with no reason- unhappy with how I lead my life. I know I should be happy for how things are going; I’m where I wanted with people I love. And somehow it just doesn’t seem enough.
Do I think that highly of myself to believe I deserve more? Certainly not. At least, I don’t think so. And still… whatever good thinking I get about this situation gets wasted because of further reasons. For example, I might ignore her starting right now, but just a heartbeat later the fact that she might gravitate back to me because of my distance poked its way into my mind. I just can’t help it. And even if I keep to the first part of the plan there’s still a part of me that will keep on hoping the second part will come true.
When you’re in the middle of the night and you realize that you have failed your objectives, that’s frustration. Like, real frustration. It’s not like it’s even my fault though. I mean, something came up and hit me like a mack truck, and I’m not made of stone. If only I was made of stone I prolly wouldn’t feel such a wuss, or keep having this freaking rumbling in my stomach that says ‘Yes, something’s not quite alright’. So many times I promised myself that I would never feel this way again. Weak, vulnerable. And yet here I am, again. Jeez, have a little mercy on me, would it be so bad? Apparently the answer is ‘yes’ in flashing lights and capital letters.
Today I made a big mistake.
I’m gonna make it right.
