apropoetic

Are my words typically okay? At least so long as I am in control of the words that do come from me, and my depression is not, I try to be kind. I try to be helpful. I try to eloquent. I try to be beautiful...because text is the only place I can be so. My visage, my physical appearance...these things do not allow me even the slightest opportunity to at least be pleasant in some form before you flee, or perhaps that's just how I feel but I've had no experiences that disprove it. The thing is that if my words are not okay, I am sorry. Even if my words are crude and you are deserving of such, I'm sorry to sink to your level and provide one more fine example to the good out there to make them feel as though their efforts are futile. I wish I could someone bring real beauty into this world, beauty people could see. I envy the beautiful. I envy the arists who creates the beautiful we all need to see at least from time to time. I've had a few claim to me I am funny from time to time, many more who confirm I'm depressing. If I can make you smile, make you laugh, nothing means more to me, but unfortunately the conditions of my own life prevent me from being able to do so as much as I'd like. I need help, in a lot of ways and perhaps in some ways in which no one can help. Maybe one day I'll get what I need, or maybe one day I'll grow a pair and stop being so needy.