Cryptic.
My Heart.
Always writing in code, putting in the tiniest pieces of me. I’m always half-hoping you’ll pick up on it and half sick to my stomach because I’m so afraid of what you’ll do if you figure it out. I’m always so afraid.
“There’s nothing to fear but fear itself.”
Cryptic meanings behind every line, every verse, every comma and space. Even behind my exclamation points! It’s bizarre. I keep watching in almost anticipation waiting for you to point at something; to point out a similarity. And then you’d study me and realize that we –the character and I- are so alike.
And then you’ll be afraid.
You’ll be afraid to think what I’ve thought. You’ll be afraid to say the wrong thing. You’ll be afraid because you didn’t know… and you don’t know how I’ll react. You’ll realize that everything I’ve ever said and everything I’ve ever done –no matter how pointless- really did have a meaning. It all meant something to me. Every time you pretended not to hear me. Every time you told me to shut up. Every time…
And then you’ll start to look over my works again to see if you can point out more and more things you missed –and trust me you have missed so much- and then you’ll realize that I’m finding edges everywhere and I’m barely keeping myself from falling off of the edge. I feel like I’m walking on a tightrope.
And then you’ll remember that poem that we read –about the woman who did the same things everyday and how she counted the stars and then the holes the stars made and how she found her daughter- and you’ll realize that I wasn’t laughing because it was funny, but that I was laughing because it was the only way I could think of to stop myself from crying. That’s why I laugh a lot of the time. My little ‘spiral’ wasn’t what she was feeling… it was what I’m feeling. I kept waiting for you to say something.
You were too busy counting the colors on the map though.
And then you metaphorically stomped all over me and left little shards of a blown-glass heart lying every where.
I breathe life into my characters in order to keep myself from doing some of the stupidest things –not that I didn’t already go through some of the stuff I wouldn’t dare to write about, it’d raise eyebrows, no?- and I come up with the happiest outcomes hoping that maybe one day one of them could be my happy ending. My happily ever after.
“There’s nothing to fear but fear itself.”
Cryptic meanings behind every line, every verse, every comma and space. Even behind my exclamation points! It’s bizarre. I keep watching in almost anticipation waiting for you to point at something; to point out a similarity. And then you’d study me and realize that we –the character and I- are so alike.
And then you’ll be afraid.
You’ll be afraid to think what I’ve thought. You’ll be afraid to say the wrong thing. You’ll be afraid because you didn’t know… and you don’t know how I’ll react. You’ll realize that everything I’ve ever said and everything I’ve ever done –no matter how pointless- really did have a meaning. It all meant something to me. Every time you pretended not to hear me. Every time you told me to shut up. Every time…
And then you’ll start to look over my works again to see if you can point out more and more things you missed –and trust me you have missed so much- and then you’ll realize that I’m finding edges everywhere and I’m barely keeping myself from falling off of the edge. I feel like I’m walking on a tightrope.
And then you’ll remember that poem that we read –about the woman who did the same things everyday and how she counted the stars and then the holes the stars made and how she found her daughter- and you’ll realize that I wasn’t laughing because it was funny, but that I was laughing because it was the only way I could think of to stop myself from crying. That’s why I laugh a lot of the time. My little ‘spiral’ wasn’t what she was feeling… it was what I’m feeling. I kept waiting for you to say something.
You were too busy counting the colors on the map though.
And then you metaphorically stomped all over me and left little shards of a blown-glass heart lying every where.
I breathe life into my characters in order to keep myself from doing some of the stupidest things –not that I didn’t already go through some of the stuff I wouldn’t dare to write about, it’d raise eyebrows, no?- and I come up with the happiest outcomes hoping that maybe one day one of them could be my happy ending. My happily ever after.