Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Me.

Here it is again. That feeling of dread. That feeling of dread that won't go away with sleep. Honestly at this point I can write a whole book of poetry about how I feel in the morning.

I don't want to come home tonight. The house is a piercing reminder of my insecurities and fears - so basically what makes me human. I've been living like I'm above it, but really I was nothing but just another soldier marching along in life. Being grounded has never felt this shitty. I feel like I need to leave.

I'm caught in a bojangle. It's not a real word and if it is a real word that's not what I mean. It just felt like an apt word for how I'm feeling now. He doesn't want me to change but who I am right now isn't doing either of us any good. I am this scared child wrapping myself in the covers because of what my world might think of me; he's perfectly fine in his world.

I don't want to come home tonight. I don't want to have to do all this work I should. My energy has been sapped out of me, much less my enthusiasm. But the world goes on in spite of me. Little, insignificant me.

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

korekshun: big farcical world. and you & your tiny tit has no fuckin biz to poke into it.

Anonymous said...

the saddest realization of all - that we're all just grains of sand.

David said...

Mayzhee,

No matter how you slice or dice lifes ups, downs, dramas, failures, success or anything that touches us mere humans, you have one life to live, one day at time.

Most of us have days we just cocoon and recover.

Perhaps this is that day for you.

David

Anonymous said...

you are such a failure. given your rich privileged background. a waste.

Anonymous said...

The only talent that you have is coming from a rich privileged family. As for your writing, I've read more amusing whiner than this perpetual nonsense.

Robert said...

Bourgeois nihilism has never been finer. Why don't you stop pretending to be some saving-the-world radical and start acting like the person you really are: bored, privileged, slightly talented writer with an insatiable urge to be recognized and admired?

Anonymous said...

your clueless airhead has no idea where to start, and you choose to start from where your bitchy heart desires; ie. the top. your sorry ass will never learn how to write.

Anonymous said...

yeah sure, your professor is egging you on. to get you paying good money to the school. for a piece of minted shit.