The only thing that sucks about being an introvert is that you’re not around to squish dumb rumors insecure girls bring about. I guess you have no idea who I am really, and talking bad on me is a way to make yourself look better. I understand. But it still stings a bit. Im not crazy, a schizophrenic, and im not a bitch either. A mean bone doesn’t exist in my body… be sure to talk bad about me to someone who doesnt really know me, because it just makes you look dumb because of how wrong you are.
Your name feels like honey on my tongue
I’m a nomad. A lonely human who has only experienced tiny fractions of family. I fed myself, dressed myself and hitch hiked my way through grade to middle school to find a place to sleep. My skills are lacking when it comes to communicating, but I can easily understand you. I wonder so often what you think. I stress at the contact of anyone reaching out to befriend me. Why do you want to know me? Who am I to you?
So many of you have hugged me, told me you adore me, but I never hear from you.
Those who ever stay, stay for reasons other than me and eventually fade. I am my own best friend but who am I to you? What have you heard or seen or read that made you think I am that? I want to know what crosses your mind when you see my face. I have no one to back my story.
I have never had anyone wonder where I am if I dissappear
and I have always loved it.
I will take my insecurities, the pit of my stomach feels and I will transform them into beautiful things. I will become more than who I was and I will be sure you never forget it.
I haven’t done automatic writing in over a year and I haven’t meditated about the same. I’ve done well on keeping out spirit from my life for a while until today. I guess its time to start shutting these doors that keep coming open. I don’t want this. I didn’t as a child, a teenager, or now. I don’t like how people look at me like I’m crazy when I react to spirit. With them either showing up or talking to me when I least expect it and causing the worst anxiety attacks. I’ve tried my whole life to keep them out, but it never works and I’m terrified to let it be. It’s going to take over my life! I’ll be that lady who’s bugging people about there passed loved ones in just going about my day. I’ll be that lady that those who don’t believe it will look at and judge me. I don’t want this. It makes me sound fucking crazy to everyone except for the ones who I’ve proved it too. I hate it so much. I hate seeing them walking around or randomly yelling my name or crossing the road when I’m driving! Which is the worst! It only scares me. I just want to make things and live my life normally.
Last night I dreamt about a 6’4” tall woman, who lived in a strange city at the top of a sky scraper. She was tall and beautiful and spoke about prophetic things. We magically flew up the side of the building and sank through the wall into her room. We spent all night talking about confusing things in life, and I suddenly found myself attracted to her, she wanted me to stay forever and rule with her, Then found that she was actually a man! A beautiful man dressed as a woman. I had to say no, because I was in love with someone (my boyfriend in my waking life) and she fought me on it a bit, but then let me leave, which is right when I woke up.
I see you in the moon, the stars, the sky. Every where I turn I see the color of your eyes. Hazy nights are haunting my waking life and it all blurs into one big dream. I understand nothing, and the child in me flails in absolute disappointment. I want to see the clear path ahead of me, I want to know what this is im feeling. Where are you? What have you seen? Im so afraid that im nothing but a repeat of your past and of your lost loves. Maybe ill just pick a million flowers and swim to the bottom of the sea! I could be happy completely alone, where no one can hurt me. If someone is going to be my sun and moon, I want to be more than just the stars. Im afraid my fears will eventually be my ruin.
Everyone just wants to get fucked.
Every girl at work talks about it,
Every magazine rants about it,
Every commercial, tv show, conversation is linked to it..
You all want so badly to be wanted by the opposite sex that is has become who you are. Your hair, your makeup, your clothing decisions, the way you speak. You act as though your worth is based only on how much and how well you put out.. well let me tell you, that is who youve become, and are you happy about that?
Think about when we were young, we had our hobbies like reading, riding bikes.. our friends.. our time together was to further ourselves, we had crushes and others had crushes on us… just as we were. Happy.
So who have you become? Who do you see in your mirror? A competitor in line? For the next hot guy you see or already know? Is that what fills the corners of your mind?
We could easily be free of that mentality, This generation could end that for our children, and our children’s children - but it starts with us. Stop buying into it, start asking yourself, “who am I doing this for?” and stop giving so many fucks.
Cause really, who the fuck are you doing this for?
I cant sleep and my heart feel’s 100 times heavier than it did last week. Im a mess, a monstrous mess of emotions I dont understand. Ive always taken such pride in my ability to be level headed, to be there for everyone and anyone when needed, to be the most dependable person with a future that lays in the stars. What made me so callus? So afraid of everyone? Love? What happened to love? I always knew that regardless of my past and all the cruel abusive people that have tried to flush my life down the toliet, I would always believe in love. But now it seems so far away.. is the love you claim to feel for me as fleeting as the beautiful girl who came up to woo you? Have i seen too much to believe in love? Like when I met that perfect couple, to find the man texting me with his inappropriate wishes the next day. Or the husband and wife with there lovely family and garden destroyed because he rather stalk me at work. Im not saying its always him, but from my point of view its whats relevant to me. So what is this love? A temporary feeling used to create more human beings on earth? Ive been lied to, more times than ive lied myself in my lying years. In the past you’ve all said you loved me, but turned around to share those sacred feelings with someone else. I want to believe, and I try so hard to hear those words and feel them in my heart as truth. I want nothing more! The only love I know to be true are in the creatures and trinkets I make with my hands, they will never wrong me, and i can hide in my stacks of books and faerie tales. I can hear the words of praise for these things I create, but where does it come from? You like my painting because you assume a face like mine couldn’t have enough substance to make something like that? Are you complimenting me to try to get me home with you? To try and steal my mind? My ideas? Are you all trying to further yourselves by taking out anyone who poses threat to your title? Who am I to anyone but myself?
I want to know, when did we all become so selfish.
Even over the vast invisible wires of information, this little human see’s the heart you’ve presented and mourns for its beauty in surviving such a rough sea alone. But that moment you sink into the dark grey, look over and know I’m sitting there too