It so hard when you have so many words to say, they bubble and turn in your stomach and almost make you sick, but you can't--you wont say them, because it costs too much. It is easier to stay sick and sad and lonely and never risk anything because you are afraid that the risk will turn out worse.
John Greenleaf Whittier wrote something to the effect: "Of all the words of tongue and of pen, the saddest are these: it might have been"
But if you dont say those words, they will poison you.
And because of that, I think I might be metaphorically dying.
Why, why is it so hard! Why cant I just be good enough, pretty enough, smart enough, confident enough---why can't I ever just say what I mean---what I feel, and be happy? Ugh! I get so damn frustrated with it, with my self doubt, with my fear, with everything.
So, what do you do?
Nothing. You play Room Service or say something completely bizzarre, and secretely hate yourself for it.
Or maybe thats just what I do.
Sometimes, maybe, things just arent meant to work out. Sometimes, the good guy dies. Maybe these thoughts I've been having should too. Im just tired.
Im going to write a letter. In this letter Im going to put all my feelings, and plans, and all this crap that Im dealing with now. Im going to put this letter in a box and bury it. If one day, things should work out, then it can be dug up--but if not--it stays burried.
Geesh. I need to get a hobby or something.
2 comments:
I am calling.
Is it bizarre that I am rereading this late at night in the middle of the week...?
I find myself rereading your old posts like I would a favorite book. Sometimes the words just bring me a comfort...I know I'm not alone...
Did you actually write the letter and bury it? I realized, as I was rereading this post, that I'd never asked, and I'm curious. It's a good idea actually. One way to let it all go and give yourself some peace. Just a curious thought...
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