(beware: depression mode--dont worry, i'm sure it'll be short lived)---->
i feel like my lips are sewn shut. i'm afraid to speak up. your ears are everywhere. when i do speak up, i'm told that my sadness is unfounded. i'm told that i am hurting you. i'm not allowed to be just hurt. it always has to be hurt because of you and that hurts you, so essentially, its never allowed to be about me. its never about my existential dilemas--and maybe you are always in the scene because you occupy so much of my life, not because you cause my life. i can see why you are never thrilled to be around me. i wish you were. i wish someone was. how could you be when you feel like such a cause that you are not? so i'll just hide here for a while, behind the barrier of the safe-zone--and hope that this fortress isn't attacked, because i know it would crumble.
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ok, so maybe its about both of us sometimes. and other times its about you. why is it that i dont remember the last time that it was just about me? i know. i'm being selfish. but i feel spent, cashed out, and empty and i need refueling. why can't you just stick your head between my thighs for a while and not want something back. doesn't making me happy give you any kind of fulfillment? and why do i never get any overblown flattery that we all know i dont really deserve, but that we all know makes people feel good about themselves anyway? my tongue is in a deep stage of decomposition. my eyes are on fire. my belly is hollow. my heart bled out. my blood is cold. my teeth are growing sharper,.
i feel like my lips are sewn shut. i'm afraid to speak up. your ears are everywhere. when i do speak up, i'm told that my sadness is unfounded. i'm told that i am hurting you. i'm not allowed to be just hurt. it always has to be hurt because of you and that hurts you, so essentially, its never allowed to be about me. its never about my existential dilemas--and maybe you are always in the scene because you occupy so much of my life, not because you cause my life. i can see why you are never thrilled to be around me. i wish you were. i wish someone was. how could you be when you feel like such a cause that you are not? so i'll just hide here for a while, behind the barrier of the safe-zone--and hope that this fortress isn't attacked, because i know it would crumble.
______________________________________________
ok, so maybe its about both of us sometimes. and other times its about you. why is it that i dont remember the last time that it was just about me? i know. i'm being selfish. but i feel spent, cashed out, and empty and i need refueling. why can't you just stick your head between my thighs for a while and not want something back. doesn't making me happy give you any kind of fulfillment? and why do i never get any overblown flattery that we all know i dont really deserve, but that we all know makes people feel good about themselves anyway? my tongue is in a deep stage of decomposition. my eyes are on fire. my belly is hollow. my heart bled out. my blood is cold. my teeth are growing sharper,.
medusaq:
if there were a way, i would be whatever you need. but, that's not how we play out for each other. there was a time i'd die for you. now, i'll live for you instead. because, whenever it's time, we'll be together, in the same place in a friendship that doesn't involve technological communication. i love you. & my flattery is never false, never designed just to make you feel good about yourself. there is too much truth to have to make anything up.