*WARNING: this blog contains emotions*
Why does boredom do this to be?
The internet is my worse enemy.
Always ending up in the completely wrong place.
I hate how I think it is you who said "You are too needy".
(I especially dislike that I know that it is true)
Books don't contain me enough anymore.
I am falling back into a regime of a routine.
Stupid red-speckled dots on my eyelids.
Spending way too much time waiting for something to happen
I hate how I can write what I need to do
but still feel powerless to make the change.
What in my heart does not translate to my actions.
My behaviour feels inconsistent, random and deranged.
I want to be in love but I am afraid to feel.
Music sounds like noise to me;
what happened to its sweet poetry?
I am okay but I feel like I ought to admit that I am not. Does that make sense to anyone but myself? I feel like I have a great life but I am failing to appreciate it. One minutes I am giddy, the next I feel strung out. I need human interaction but I am afraid to give up my precious free time.
I am sitting on the tricycle of life and I need a push.
Who still loves me?
