i don't think you want to know and i don't think you want to remember, i keep fading away, it's crazy, i listen to the songs and the messages but i can't know what they mean for me, and if it's dark that's when i call her name, crystal perfumes and white pearls on top of my bible and soon-to-be book, it's 4 am i can't seem to come home, while my lips keep parting, they go from pink to yellow, i feel sick and my body, heavy, i don't think you want to escape yourself, and if you do then you are just afraid to, so much white noise in the room, am i wrong for thinking somebody's watching me? it's very dark but i see faces, it's static, blue and red, sometimes purple, pink back to yellow, and they are dry, they tell me to write but i don't know about what, i just keep doing until it becomes more than a dream, i think that not even as a baby was i free, maybe you want the change but you can't see it yet, am i wrong for this? who is wrong among them? i don't think it's me, but i decided to not say a thing because it's very tiring to try to prove myself and put up a performance, i think i am a performer because i've been doing it and i only stop when i am alone, but because i feel seen i can't remember the last time i stopped, who am i putting up a show for? is it you? what are you even, if not evil? and if you are a demon i wouldn't care, i'm too lonely anyways, listen to me while i say: am i wrong for wanting him to die? maybe not die, just dissapear maybe vanish, cause it's not about revenge, it's about wanting to break free from him, things would be easier if he just dissapeared, but am i wrong for this? they say listen to yourself but i hear so many voices, it's hard to put a finger on my own, my mother keeps talking and as routine goes, i listen because, i don't have to, but i think i will be patient, and i want to be smarter than the ones around me, not for competion, but maybe this way we'll have a way out, and this makes me think how contradictory i am, but i'm not, you just wouldn't understand, so i've learned to not explain although i do sometimes but i know i shouldn't if i want to be freed, but if not even when i was completely ignorant was i free, is freedom even real? maybe the persue of freedom itself it's what makes me a slave to my own, and you might not understand but in my head it starts to make sense, it's now 4:36 am, and i'm wondering if i will ever get paid for writing, not even that, just thinking, that's harder than writing because there i am listening to myself, will i ever get paid for thinking? Because that's all i've been doing for 17 years, any other thing it's just a performance.
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dailybridgerton
2087
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