Thursday, 15 April 2010.

It really really doesn't matter.

Nothing does. You know?

Because when it matters it's too painful to handle

or can't we take it?

What's wrong with me, and what's wrong with the rest of you?
Like we're all individually crumbling away at different rates
but we won't say a word, not until there's not enough left of us to remember what it feels like to be sane.

I ramble, and I ramble because I can't cope with talking point-blank.
I can't tell the truth in a staccato chain of simple sentences--everything that's wrong, everything I hate, everything I fear you'll reject me for, everything that kills me inside.

Because when we tear down these walls there's nothing holding up the ceiling anymore, if you will, and we all come crashing down.


This is such a pointless post.

{ 7:40 pm }