मय्बे

interesting enough

repressed

i find it awfully strange
so odd that these thoughts are surfacing
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irrelevant poem...
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She took it all too serious
She thought it was definite
The irony is the only definite thing is the end

Its up to them if the end is happy or tragic
I'm afraid that the odds of a so called happy ending are so little that there is no point

Everyone says I don't understand
And I don't
And I don't ever want to

still working on this

Chest tightening
So frightening

boom boom boom boom

My heart is pounding in sync with my head

Throb throb throb throb

My heart is in my stomach

Sharp swallows

We can fix this

Don't end it like this

Warm tears streaming
Trickling along my nose
Dripping on my chapped lips

We need each other
At least I need you
I am so lost
all I need is one measly clue

if

if she asked, I'd deny it
if they ask, I'll say no regrets
if he asks, I'll be apt to do it

if you wish to know the truth, i would never tell you

never directly

lately my soul has been filled with discontent

discontent, vexation, restlessness, uneasiness, displeasure, any way you wanna say it.

but, yet at the same time, i am so happy

i feel guilty, although it isn't my fault

i want to fix it, but all i have are destructive tools

my nail would split the wood our friendship was built with, my screwdriver would strip your screw

i do not know what to say, or what to do.

the saddest part?
i do not think i care anymore

reallyyy?

January...
already?

Finals...
lame!