My head is pounding; I think you got in again. You’re driving me up a wall because, god, I’m terrified to just be myself. I don’t do well at meeting new people. I’m odd, awkward, and I just end up dreaming in my thoughts. Just don’t hate, don’t tell me to leave again. I don’t know if this head could take another blow. God, I’m so jealous of you; I don’t even know who I am anymore. Do you know me? Is it possible to truly know someone if they don’t even know themself?
So, new question: everyone has at least one deep dark secret that they just need to scream from the rooftops, right? I guess, I do believe that. But there’s no way I have just one. There’s so many things I feel like screaming. I’m screaming out to you, but you’ll never hear. Every other girl’s lips are just too entrancing and my ungraceful exits have stopped being so humorous; my awkward glances have never gotten your attention; my heart just isn’t an equal exchange for you. Yours is light and innocent, despite whatever taints your mortal figure. I may be as innocent as a child, but this heart holds secrets and shadows, it weighs a million tons. It’s taking me down with it. Leave, you’re better with her. Whomever she may be. I’m so sick and exhausted from this constant state of self consciousness. This is my sercret confession.
Secret #1: I’m terrified I might just get my wish and you’ll all leave me. And just maybe you’ll be better off without me.
I spit lies like the treason I breathe, I’m a time bomb set for your apocalypse. This session is over; you’re not gone. Please, don’t leave me in the dust all over again. Dust is all I breathe. I want to feel beautiful for once. But that will come with my beautiful downfall; you don’t understand these secrets I write. I don’t want you to know, not ever. Because when you understand me, you’ll hate what you find. This person hiding behind the shadows, falling apart at her badly sown seams. This is me. Everything about me. And you’re not the only one that hates it. I killed myself for you and you still hate everything about me. I shouldn’t have meant it, I swear.
Now, whomever didn’t understand why I don’t do so well under social pressures. This is it. I can’t ever say the right thing because I always plan things ahead. Don’t break my heart because person of coal does have one coal heart. Maybe Santa will give it to the right person next Christmas and I won’t fall so hopelessly in hate with this love that I’ve found. I fail at keeping in touch. So please, don’t leave me. Love me, because you’re the only one I’ve got left.
I’m back to square one; I never change. I’m still who I used to be.
Rikki [not romance]