everything i do, i do for you. i may not have met you yet, but every decision i make is for you. whoever you are. when we meet i want you to see me, for all that i am - mistakes, flaws, imperfections and perfected complications - and tell me that i’m beautiful. the only thing that matters is being beautiful for you.
why is it that it seems like no matter what i cannot appreciate things that i have done? that no matter what happens i cannot see the good in things i do, i can get over that hurtle of enjoying who i am and what i do. and when i do i wonder why most times it seems like i’m just imitating things that i’ve seen and love. the only thing i can truly call my own is the way i string together words and even that is contrived. or i worry it is. i don’t know anymore, what to think or what to do. and i’m left with this empty feeling at the end of the day, so empty. what will they say about me when i’m dead? what will they write about me on my tombstone? i don’t know. i have so many years to figure that out and still it seems as if i have no time at all. i’m caught up worrying that i’m wasting my life so much that i’m wasting my life. but then… i’m not. i’m not at all. i’m doing the best i can aren’t i? and that’s all we can do. all we can do is do the best that we can. i get so caught up in waiting, i have to make myself wait for this, and that will come soon enough.
i think you forget sometimes. i think you get so caught up in the fact that you have always had us that you think that you will always. you forget that we are human too and the same kind of redness runs through our veins. you forget that when you bleed, we bleed too. we are directly connected. when there is so much history behind you how can you not? but you forget. you tread idly and you think of only the future, what is ahead, and those you can please, trying so hard to reign them in, bring them in and together. trying so hard to get them all interested. you need all of their attention, you need their approval to make you feel real. i remember when all you needed was us to make you feel real. just the unison of breath, in and out. it was always too hot. was that the problem? was that what drove you away? are their beds cooler at night? is their body temperature lower? or is this all a figment of my imagination, running wild and getting ahead of me. am i just one more whining voice in the chorus that forms everything that i dislike? i don’t want to be that. i want to be more. and i want you to remember what it was like to want to impress us and want to be with us. i want you to remember what it was like with us. maybe i just need to stop having these expectations of a false past. maybe i just need to forget. maybe.
my lips are red and i can taste the metallic residue of blood, the result of. my teeth sinking deep into them, biting and nipping and doing their worst. it hurts and my goal, to even the skin, will never be realized. no matter what we do or how hard we try, it’ll always be too hard and there is never going to be a time when i can accept it. so why stress and worry about now? why let my emotions get the best of me? no reason. no reason anymore.
you know i can never be sure anymore, what i’m saying or what i’m thinking at a particular time. and it seems like no matter what whenever i glance back over my shoulder at my life i’m astonished by how much different i was, and yet the same. i also find myself astonished that i was so sure of who i was and what i was doing, but how bad i was at everything i was doing and how i really wasn’t myself at all. now suddenly in the course of no time at all i feel like i’m standing above this transcript of my life and i’m at the highest peak. this is who i am, this is where i am. how many years until i hit one of these again? who knows. all i’ll ever be sure of is that i’m not sure of anything at all. except that i cannot devolve. i can only evolve. and that means our time is up.
