In a crazy flurry of words last night, i allowed my pen to blaze across the pages of my own, personal journal. After reading the words formed from my emotional throw up, i realize that my biggest problem really IS my biggest problem. I'm not insecure about who i am, i'm not insecure about what makes me different from eveyrone else, i'm not insecure about the things i truly love; mostly modest. What i'm insecure about is the fact that i never say the things that i should. That i never say the things that i feel. And when i do, i'm unappreciated for them. Not by all persons but, by one in particular.
In a painful, truly crazy emotional state, i wrote:
"I'm spilling my guts on paper and no one sees.
NO ONE.
Why can't i spill my guts in the air?"
It's like really bad indie lyrics but, i understand it exactly, of course i do, i wrote the words.
So what's my problem?
We only live once, right? What the fuck am i doing? What exactly am i hiding from? My words are the things i have that truly define me. I can arrange them and make them whatever i want them to be. Not only that, why am i so afraid of my emotions? Isn't that what makes us truly unique in this universe?
I'm tired of being so frightened. I'm ready to be more than this. Because i am more than this.
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