Lovecraft in Brooklyn

I know it's nothing. Every single time I let go and trust someone, it feels good, sure, but then I end up getting hurt. It's like my heart imploded and my blood has run cold. I don't like many and I respect fewer. I don't usually give my real name out for a ridiculous variety of reasons. I don't like the person I'm supposed to be, and yesterday I was met with the horrible realization as much as I try I will never be what anyone wants. I can't live up to their expectations. Eventually I'll be a disappointment. Who am I supposed to be? Who am I supposed to want to be?

Be yourself.

I've been bending over backwards trying to be something for everyone for sixteen years. This past year was spent, in vain, trying to find something, anything that wasn't passed upon another person wanting me. I have no idea who I am. I don't want to make the wrong choice, (though by some awesome magic, I do.) I don't want to be rejected. So many holes and nothing to fill them.


Keep your distance, it's all temporary. I lie because I don't think people care enough to hear the truth. What's funny is I can't remember the last time I lied.

I can't trust blindly. Anything that involves letting someone else getting close to me in any way, simply won't happen. Learn everything, share nothing. If I could accept that so plainly I would be okay, but I can't. I'm not. Okay. I can't sleep for long these days, five hours max. I drink coffee by the pot, not a cup in the morning, a cup at night. Around five cups I can sleep. All these little problems are connected. I just wish. I just wish someone was as interested in me as I am in them.

Sure:

I don't feel loved.

I don't feel wanted.

I forget what reason I gave myself to try to be someone.

Maybe:

I'll just keeping being everyone's toy.

At least, that is familiar.