you don't let me.
when i wanna move on,
you hold me down; suffocate me.
when i wanna try something new,
you pull me back and let the possibility of failure enter my mind.
when i wanna better myself,
you remind me of all of the horrible traits i still have.
when i wanna love you,
you turn me away.
when you wanna love me,
i'm not strong enough.
when i'm finally okay again...
you just don't let me live unless it's with you.
i can't win here. i love you, but i can't do what's good for you, just because it's easy.
sometimes the HARDEST things to do in life, and the RIGHT things to do for everyone involved are the same.
and you'll learn that eventually.
things happen for a reason. by no means do i want you to let me go out of your life,
but by no means does showing me you feel like this change anything... that'd be wrong.
i guess this is goodbye until you're able to face the truth and talk to me.
1/16/11
1/12/11
figuratively.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
The faint silhouette of a stranger I once knew fell upon the lit hallway,
And I paused, but only to reminisce for a moment.
Not to think of you, because you’re not thinking of me.
But… it’s too late for that, because I’m already wishing you were,
Which makes me think of you. So I’ll stop.
Though, on this silhouette, I imagined a face; one that happened to have your eyes, your crooked smile, and even that small freckle you have on the left side of your lip that you always forgot about.
I imagined this character (that has no relation to you whatsoever), to move with the vibrancy of your gallantly clumsy walk, and to withhold the gentlest of silly expressions you made whenever I said something strange, which was a lot, but I didn’t mind.
Everything from your worn down shoes to that perfectly tangled mess you call hair radiated through my eyeballs all the way into the back of my head, and stuck.
But don’t get me wrong, this silhouette was not you,
nor did I intend for it to remind me of you in any which way, shape or form.
I don’t think of you, ever, remember?
But… I must say, as quickly as the image appeared upon that blank silhouette… it was gone.
Sometimes, I drive around these predictable streets,
and I think of “us.”
Not the “us” now, but the “us” then.
The “us” that included the you that wasn’t so…
Not you. The you that used to feel something.
Then I forget where I’m driving all together.
But sometimes, my favorite part is not having a single clue.
That way, it’s easier to avoid emptiness. But only sometimes.
Funny, I’m putting on this face to show you how easy it is for me to live without you, because it is; your misguidance, or your stupid remarks, or your empty promises… or your loving arms, or your smiling eyes, or your kiss that is the kinda kiss girls only get in movies, or something...
So... there's my problem- That’s when I get weak again. But you’ll never know. Not like you’d care anyways, eh?
I used to remember the way it felt to lay in the empty roads and fill the worn down cracks with little pebbles I let fall through my fingers.
I also used to remember what it felt like dancing on the warm pavement to our song muffled by my old car’s horrible stereo, with the stars reaching down to light the road for just you and I, just as if it happened yesterday.
Perfection at its finest, if I do say so myself.
I’d run, as fast and as far as I could. I’d run until I couldn’t breathe,
But only because I knew no matter how far I ran, or how weak I became,
You’d take me in. every single time.
But, you see, pebbles roll away and become mere crumbs on the earth. The nights that i so dreamed of lasting a lifetime, turn silently into daylight before my eyes. And the feel of the pavement, the pebbles, and your embrace become more faint every single day.
I don’t sleep much. Hell, when did I ever really sleep?
I’ve gotten much stronger though, you know.
The way I see it is:
Not hearing from you means not seeing you.
Not seeing you means not thinking of you.
Not thinking of you means not wanting you.
Not wanting you means not missing you.
Not missing you means not hurting over you.
Not hurting over you means, well… not loving you.
I think. Right?
Logic is logic, I suppose.
Well.. as I lie on the ground and my right foot begins to fall asleep,
The tingles shock my senses, as I unknowingly await the arrival of my sweet silhouette once again; the one that is of my imaginary boy, nay, man; one, however, actually brave enough to remember how to love me.
I am reminded constantly that I am waiting for absolutely nothing. With all my might, I’m trying not to show that this type of foolish hope is exactly what got me here in the first place.
But, it’s okay, now.
I step up off of the shadowed carpet I knew as safety,
And I get my blood flowing,
And I live.
This time, not looking back for that shadow that won’t ever creep consistently behind my every move.
I’m stronger when I chose not to look back awaiting its arrival. I guess I’ve found I like it better that way.
I may still not know where my destination is when behind the wheel.
And I may still fight the devilish workings of insomnia.
But at least this time it won’t be because of that stupid, empty silhouette. Now, when the shadow arrives in my presence again… it’ll be nothing more than a discolored marking i'll overlook, of a stranger I used to know.
And that’s all it’ll ever be.
The faint silhouette of a stranger I once knew fell upon the lit hallway,
And I paused, but only to reminisce for a moment.
Not to think of you, because you’re not thinking of me.
But… it’s too late for that, because I’m already wishing you were,
Which makes me think of you. So I’ll stop.
Though, on this silhouette, I imagined a face; one that happened to have your eyes, your crooked smile, and even that small freckle you have on the left side of your lip that you always forgot about.
I imagined this character (that has no relation to you whatsoever), to move with the vibrancy of your gallantly clumsy walk, and to withhold the gentlest of silly expressions you made whenever I said something strange, which was a lot, but I didn’t mind.
Everything from your worn down shoes to that perfectly tangled mess you call hair radiated through my eyeballs all the way into the back of my head, and stuck.
But don’t get me wrong, this silhouette was not you,
nor did I intend for it to remind me of you in any which way, shape or form.
I don’t think of you, ever, remember?
But… I must say, as quickly as the image appeared upon that blank silhouette… it was gone.
Sometimes, I drive around these predictable streets,
and I think of “us.”
Not the “us” now, but the “us” then.
The “us” that included the you that wasn’t so…
Not you. The you that used to feel something.
Then I forget where I’m driving all together.
But sometimes, my favorite part is not having a single clue.
That way, it’s easier to avoid emptiness. But only sometimes.
Funny, I’m putting on this face to show you how easy it is for me to live without you, because it is; your misguidance, or your stupid remarks, or your empty promises… or your loving arms, or your smiling eyes, or your kiss that is the kinda kiss girls only get in movies, or something...
So... there's my problem- That’s when I get weak again. But you’ll never know. Not like you’d care anyways, eh?
I used to remember the way it felt to lay in the empty roads and fill the worn down cracks with little pebbles I let fall through my fingers.
I also used to remember what it felt like dancing on the warm pavement to our song muffled by my old car’s horrible stereo, with the stars reaching down to light the road for just you and I, just as if it happened yesterday.
Perfection at its finest, if I do say so myself.
I’d run, as fast and as far as I could. I’d run until I couldn’t breathe,
But only because I knew no matter how far I ran, or how weak I became,
You’d take me in. every single time.
But, you see, pebbles roll away and become mere crumbs on the earth. The nights that i so dreamed of lasting a lifetime, turn silently into daylight before my eyes. And the feel of the pavement, the pebbles, and your embrace become more faint every single day.
I don’t sleep much. Hell, when did I ever really sleep?
I’ve gotten much stronger though, you know.
The way I see it is:
Not hearing from you means not seeing you.
Not seeing you means not thinking of you.
Not thinking of you means not wanting you.
Not wanting you means not missing you.
Not missing you means not hurting over you.
Not hurting over you means, well… not loving you.
I think. Right?
Logic is logic, I suppose.
Well.. as I lie on the ground and my right foot begins to fall asleep,
The tingles shock my senses, as I unknowingly await the arrival of my sweet silhouette once again; the one that is of my imaginary boy, nay, man; one, however, actually brave enough to remember how to love me.
I am reminded constantly that I am waiting for absolutely nothing. With all my might, I’m trying not to show that this type of foolish hope is exactly what got me here in the first place.
But, it’s okay, now.
I step up off of the shadowed carpet I knew as safety,
And I get my blood flowing,
And I live.
This time, not looking back for that shadow that won’t ever creep consistently behind my every move.
I’m stronger when I chose not to look back awaiting its arrival. I guess I’ve found I like it better that way.
I may still not know where my destination is when behind the wheel.
And I may still fight the devilish workings of insomnia.
But at least this time it won’t be because of that stupid, empty silhouette. Now, when the shadow arrives in my presence again… it’ll be nothing more than a discolored marking i'll overlook, of a stranger I used to know.
And that’s all it’ll ever be.
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