Disclaimer: This was for me and to remind myself of who i am. I have this weird habit of writing for a certain person, a specific audience to entertain with my cleverness. I'm writing for me. This post is confusing, pretentious, and will be judged...Enjoy.
I am happy at times. I smile, queue laughter. Words are spoken to me and I respond with words in kind.
I am shallow. I judge things that others have no control over. I punish myself, judging things I have no control over.
I am passive. I repeat words that do not belong to me, constantly. Words bring me close to others. Shared words.
I am alone. I listen, say little. Words only escape through song. The words are about me, my life, my problems, my happiness. I am selfish. I make them about me; warp them to satisfy a need for attention. I hear "we" and it hurts. I am not we.
Humans lack the ability to truly understand one another. This is proof. But that's ok...I'm here to help sort it out.
I am not what I am, an assortment of maladroit emotions, but rather, what I have. Precious things like moodswings, magnificent shifts in perspective. Memories. Dogs, and the selfless act of caring for a living thing that is dependent on your love. My sense of humor, a series of flimsy sutures suppressing childhood hemorrhages. The strength to rise. I have sarcasm to take the edge off, like two advil's. Unconditional love from my creators, mom and dad. humility. Potential to change. And then there's you...do i even have to mention you guys. I may hate what i am, but by god, i love what i have...
This was for me and to remind myself of who i am. I have this weird habit of writing for a certain person, to entertain them with my cleverness. I'm writing for me.
This year it was better.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment