A dream. A romance. A love. In Words.
I think you prefer when the world "together" means not "a million," but just two.
I was one of the insatiables. The ones you'd always find sitting closest to the screen. Why do we sit so close? Maybe it was because we wanted to receive the images first. When they were still new, still fresh. Before they cleared the hurdles of the rows behind us. Before they'd been relayed back from row to row, spectator to spectator; until worn out, secondhand, the size of a postage stamp, it returned to the projectionist's cabin. Maybe, too, the screen was really a screen. It screened us... from the world.
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A broken second.
Broken moments together.
Broken hours crying.
Broken memories of a
Broken night. A
BROKEN LOVE to a
I keep catching myself at thinking about him.
Is all this shit starting over again?
I hoped this summer would pass without this stupid obsession-like crush on him this time.
It makes me tired.
All this trying to track him down.
At least when it's only in thoughts.
And when I'm given the tiniest bit of "proof", which -of course- may not even be one, I start freaking out again.
My heart leapes up.
My head spins.
The butterflies are back again.
IF YOU LISTEN, stop doing this to me.
I can't stand it anymore.
Don't ever talk to me again like you do.
Don't ever look at me again the way you do.
Don't ever think of me again.
Hide and Seek
Why do all of us keep playing?
Why do we hide from each other?
It's not because we want to get away.
We want to be found.
HE is hiding.
From me? I don't know.
Does he want to be found?
Yes, he does.
He is leaving all these hints and clues all over.
And I find them.
Because I keep looking for them.
I know I shouldn't.
I think he talks/thinks about me.
I read something I think is about me.
Speak up, finally! Please.
I am ready.
I am ready to present myself to the world.
I am ready to fight against all this shit we both always feared.
All this shit that kept us apart for the last three years.
I am ready.
I am ready to love you
Are you ready to love me?
Changes have to be made
I wanna change.
I feel like changing.
I am not the same anymore.
I'm so fucking sick of being the quiet shy one with the strange expression.
I am me.
I am a person like anybody else.
I am worth everything.
I want to move. To change.
Myself. The world.
But more myself, I guess.
I've changed already. But the change isn't done yet.
I don't know whether I need help or can do it on my own, but something has got to happen (to me)
And things are already changing from the outside.
I'm waiting for them to change on the inside.
I am me.
And I am good.
I am great.
I am a person of high value.
I can give.
I wanna live.
But I can't do it on my own.
Let me be me.
Let me show everyone who did not believe in me.
I want to present myself.
I want to be seen.
I want to love and be loved in return.