sometimes i feel like screaming;
telling the whole wide
world how much you mean to me,
how you let me be myself.
but i know they wouldn't care.
sometimes i feel like screaming;
to tell the world how alone i feel.
and it's not your fault.
i make myself cry
because i think too deeply.
i don't think anyone would understand fully,
but at least i feel like maybe you could.
which is saying a lot.
i hide.
you can probably count on your fingers
how many times you've seen me visibly upset.
but i can assure you it has been more than that;
i hate hiding.
it doesn't make me strong
like i pretend it does.
but i like pretending;
that everything is perfect.
there is no such thing as perfect...
even i know that.
i don't even know where this is going.
i am typing aimlessly;
these usually get deleted before i hit publish post.
i refuse to believe i can fake happy to the point
where i fully convince myself.
i know i have been happy.
i just don't know why it's the little things
that bring me down.
i can take the big things gracefully;
or maybe that's part of my defense.
maybe the big things burrow, until enough
little things coax them out;
like worms in the rain.
isn't it funny how i only bring up
things that sting when i'm at a safe distance?
i don't know how to talk to people about these things
because i can't sort them out for myself.
maybe i should make a list, a chart, a graph...
i sound crazy.
i'm stopping here.
i'll see you in the morning and
i will be smiling.
and i will be sure that i am happy.
but i can't tell.