Why.

Every night before falling helpless into dreaming I can’t help but wonder.

I stare at the ceiling, I look at my hands, I trace my face, I think of all the things that I have, that I could have done, that could have been.

And then I stop. I focus on my past, I dig deep until I find one memory that’s nice, one that I can fit into the narrative I want to deceive myself with tonigh.

I avoid standing next to someone else, because ever since I can remember I’ve been surrounded by talent, singing, drawing, writing, creating.

I was just there, staring, hoping, dreaming of my turn, naively thinking it was something you got turns for.

I try, but every time I fail, but then again, I don’t know I’m trying as hard as I should, as I could, as I must.

But it’s okay, we’ll trouble our minds with that tomorrow, tonight I’ll choose a moment where I felt special, when I was at the center, and we will play it over and over again until I can shut it all down.

I know.

I know I shouldn’t wait for someone to come and pick up the pieces. I know it should be me. I know I should love my self and pick them up one by one and glue them together.

But is it too much to ask, someone that cares, someone that notices, someone that sees that I’m barely holding by a string.

They don’t see how my foundations are corroded, as they can’t see them rotting, as they can’t see the pieces on the floor they don’t mind.

They only get to see what they want to see, the beautiful front, the smile, the laughs, the promising future that can’t remember her past.

Just bitter memories once I push, I guess I’ll keep that door close as long as I can, maybe someday someone will notice that door and will realize the ceiling hanging over our heads depends on the foundations holding on.

Sometimes I wonder…

If I’m not happy with what I have and with who I am.

What would make me happy? I’ve never been able to find an answer… money, a different job, a hobby, traveling, who knows?

Will I find love? The type of love worth living for? Something that makes me feel warm and happy and content and at peace. Someone that holds my hand, Kisses my cheek, hugs me at night.

Someone who’s shoulder brings me confort, someone that loved the same way I could love them back.

Hoping

Right now I’m lying in bed thinking about tomorrow, i don’t want tomorrow to come because I simply don’t want today to end.

It’s not because today has been memorable or in any way something to remember, but just because I’m tired of this eternal loop repeating itself over and over again.

I hope your reality is just as good or better than your dreams, I hope your goals are yours and not some else’s expectations, I hope you are you because you want to, and not to fit someone else’s shoes.

I sincerely hope, it gets better. But if it doesn’t, just go to sleep and let’s hope tomorrow comes and today ends.

A little bit about myself

I’m new to this, just as I am new to everything else, I used to disassociate from my reality by reading, now somewhere along the way, my passion shifted towards writing, I wanted to create a world where I could get lost.

  • I’m 23 years old, too young to loose faith and too old to actually believe everything can happen.
  • From one place, currently living in the neighbor country planning on moving overseas (let’s see how it goes)

I have friends who I love, family that loves me no matter what… and still there’s something missing, I guess westerns views of the world makes us extremely selfish and self centered.

I’m trying my best.

  • But is it my best, enough?

This might be changing along the way, I don’t know if it is a journal, wishful writing, a book or a mini series, I don’t even know if poetry actually defines this project.

#writing #journal #bored #thinking #world

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