1. Greatleadersrose
2. Запись

Confession booth...

I want to be noticed, but at the same time to hide. I don't want to be lonely, but also I want to be left alone. I think I am humble, but I have often to fight with my pride, I think I am meek, but I can enlessly cry out in loud to be heard, alone with my bed with windows wide open, untill my voice is just gone. I want things to happen, but only in my own terms, thus at the end nothing happens at all. I need my time, and I don't need to be told, I am a truly spoiled brat with a soul of a youth. I waste time on fakeries of happiness, like an endless consuming of all sort of goods. I call it shopping, but it is really just piles upon piles of useless stuff. I know all I need is to love and be loved, but mutuality is so rare. Romantic love is a thing I probably never have, because I am stubborn on conditionig and sorting and categorising and pushing people around me away. So I then cherish and feed the only thing that left - my despair. In order to be numb I stuff myself with stuffed toys and fake amends. More things - less feelings, less feelings - less pain, less pain - less live. Sometimes it feels like I lost all the ability to feel or know the truth, freedom is the true essence of my existance, and I am slowly loosing it by giving up this blinfolded fight.
P. S. Maybe that is why I like to dwell and to write about sick people and battles.

Here we go again, I wanted to write a poem, but instead got a confession booth prose...

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