The destination unknown, the motivation…unclear. For now, the lost is in the leaving. Shards of shame…confusion….rejected before given a chance. Judge not harshly, for I would not subject you to such treatment. Ah, a blog….yes. It is a means for coping. The answer to tentative prayers, a deciphering of drama and drinks and dreams. I think you get it…just too fearful or unsure of the potential. Is this the confusion I seek? I am crushing on you like a smasher of aluminum. This must be a test….a mirage…something new and unimaginable.
A ghost am I. Fucking it up. I am fucking all this up. The security is false and bullshit. You all might think you know what I am or could be BUT how could you? I am to be left like apple cores and greasy plates. Call it dramatics, call it stupid. I am, Am, AM all of the above. Positive sentiments are sparse and my comprehension of you is a LIE….like pants on fire. YES, you. Perhaps the timing is rigid. Perhaps Coldplay has been written off once and again. I call it angst (too too much), you claim energy.
X. I am the X. EX. Ruin is a gift? I believe it….yes. Ruin is me in this place and time. Initial assumptions were correct….for who could love me like this….or even date me? Certainly not you. Ashame. I see you as brilliant. A brilliant mess of wonder. I am loving me. I am loving this. I’m nearly over the pity now. Titles are overrated and played out like tennis. Call it hangouts. I crave a connection, a comfort, a carefree and mindful existence. Channel Buddha and a bag of chips.
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