Apparently I seem to be unable to put into words to make people understand what's up with me.
It's bigger than I can put into words and it's bigger than what I've been able to describe and it's more than what I've talked about. It's not the end of the world….but it's not quite as trivial as people seem to think it is…
But it is unexplainable. This will come as a shock to everyone who knows me, but believe it or not there are some things I keep private. There are some things I don't tell. Well…unfortunately for me, a big part of my funk is stemming from issues that I don't talk to anyone about.
So yeah…of course people aren't getting it.
Pretty hard to get when I can't tell….
I was flipping through Ceci's book and I came across a poem and a part of it is just perfect.
Just perfect.
he air of pain is sound
you wait outside for me to rise
but I am too far down
I wish I could write like her.
if only….
.
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