This is what happens when one too many people forsake me. This is the crawling, gnashing self doubt that I can't shake off.
And it's all because of them...
They see what I show, and never ask to pry deeper. Maybe they think they're better than me, maybe they just don't care. I don't give a shit any more.
If you think this is about you, then listen.
I AM NOT WHAT YOU THINK I AM.
I live, I breathe.
I don't like how I act, I don't like being a pushover.
I don't like being the one that everyone comes to, and cuddles on, and wants to take home to mommy and daddy.
I hate being me.
This is not a life.
Don't you get that I'm not just your fucking plaything? I don't want to be dragged off, and cuddled, and held and have to hold you. But I can't say no.
I'm a fucking pushover. I can't refuse, because if I say no, then I have no friends, so I do what's asked of me without complaint. Until it comes to this. This is the place where I really open up, and hell breaks loose.
Don't try to make me yours.
The Final Straw by Broken KingEdit
- by Broken King
- Privacy: All
- on Dec 07 2009 08:43 AM, Dec 7, 2009, last seen on Jan 15 07:59 PM
- © All rights reserved.
- Age 19
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- Categories: Angst, Bitter, Depression, Life, My own personal thoughts
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By Broken King, © 2009, All rights reserved.
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- I will not hug you
But I think you are still a great person... Good luck - Although your pain is nothing to be happy about, the poetry that you produce with it is. Truly, when "hell breaks loose" your work holds no bounds and is very strong in it's message. You have your All Poetry supporters here =) Deeply scarred, but never alone *hugs*
- You will have me as a friend so long as you are YOU.
A really cool guy once told me to be me. I do sincerely hope he takes the same advice.
here for ya. you know my number
