stupid boy

Apr 02, 2008

i always asked, "who do you think you are?"
the real question is- who do i think you are.
i couldnt for the life tell why youre special.
whats unique about you. nothing.
thats just it. nothing in common.
nothing to say. nothing intriguing.
nothing wholly attractive. nothing.
the same as what fills the space between your ears.

i need somebody to see me for who i am.
accept me, not for what i tell them, but for what i dont.
if i told you would you look at me different?
scorpios are the keepers of secrets, and nobody-
ever will know mine own. its buried beneath the earth,
in a box with my name upon it, but i burned the map,
and melted the key. never- will you know. will i tell you-
never. nothing and never. they sound all too promising for this
-this situation that means nothing at all. like you.
so what drives me to condescend to write about you?
to let others know what i think about you.
the words, as they spill out of me and onto my screen.
incomprehensable. nonsensical. but to me-
they are my present story. my present predicament.
the one ive dug myself into without even realizing.
im the one who says, "dont fall in love with me"
who do you think you are? stealing my lines, and
my mind. oh my mind its stolen, ive lost it.
losing my mind, and my body its doing things on its own.
no control over whats going on, none.
no longer going through the motions of everyday,
no routine could save me now.
can i save myself? or will i forever be stuck sitting here
telling you all of the things you will never read. you will never know.
you could, if you wanted. but i know you dont.
i think you dont.
i dont know anything about you for certain.
certainty. the only thing that it certain to me is the sun rising in the morning
calling me to yet another day that i dont want to be in.
not waking in the morning. sleeping through the day.
having to be strong and pretend that everything is alright.
nothing is alright. i hope youre doing fine, while i sit here-
and fall apart with the world around me.
and the other. dissapointment. hes leaving soon.
he will go on and live his happy life, while im stuck here. in this rut.
leaving her for me, whats to stop him from leaving me for another
who did i think i was? no superhero thats for sure. just another girl.
another check on your bedpost. ive got real issues. so read them.
here they are: written on this blank page
and the thoughts finally run dry.
as the blood spills to the floor, i'll soak it up with my heart.
may there be life for it.