I don't know what I am anymore. I don't enjoy the pain I inflict on myself..I can't enjoy the pleasure I inflict on myself for a lack of desire when by myself..Those I surround myself with are either cowards, negative vibe inducing, self absorbed, or inconsiderate..those that are not it seems I am either forced to or feel compelled to draw myself away from. I don't want to taint their calm waters with calamity. I hate being alone, yet have strangely felt ill at ease as of late if I am not. I am down to only wanting to hang with all of like 3 people on a regular basis and have little to no patience nor tolerance for anyone otherwise. I am no perfect cream puff either..but I seem to prefer to be an asshole by myself than infect the rest of this already pretty lousy world any further. Is this what becoming an adult is all about? Pushing yourself so far into your own corner until you can't stand being without it? I am having so much fun..please..I can do this forever. I miss wanting to share my life with someone that was awesome to share it with. I miss being that person that was willing to share it. Too many fucking boxes I will never fit into and quite honestly...I don't want to. I'm not your mother. I'm not your savior. I'm not your accomplice. I'm not your camcorder. I'm not your GameBoy. I am not your treadmill. I am not your fish tank. I am not your baby. I am not your problem. I am not your crutch. I am not your maid. I am not your strength. I am not the reason you hate yourself. I am not the reason you can't get enough of yourself. EVERYONE NEEDS TO FUCK OFF!! I am officially off the radar for a while.
Little Conversations - Concrete Blonde
The Little Conversation
Is Over Very Soon
And I watch in admiration
From my corner of the room.
They shine on you with starry eyes...
They rain a friendly storm.
Like kids around a Christmas tree
And then you smile all nice and warm
The Little Conversations
If I tried my very best
You know I never could say anything
In twenty words or less.
Somewhere, sometime, down the line
Someday I may confess,
And tell you all, that's all
The Little Conversations
On me are very rough
They leave me all in pieces
You know there's never time enough
It's like a book with missing pages
A story incomplete
It's like a painting left unfinished
It feels like not enough to eat.
You know, these little conversations
Well for me they'll never do
Now what am I supposed to do with
Broken sentences of you?
I'll stay in my corner 'cause
That's all that i can do
And let the others speak for me.