#innermonolouge

I hate this feeling I have. It takes over my body and my mind. It makes me someone I'm not. I hate feeling like my chest is going to explode. Its makes me feel like I can't breathe and every breath just gets harder and harder. I hate the fact that I can't talk to anyone about it because it's not who I am. I'm not someone to be afraid or quiet. I'm not the person who Cry's because they just can't contain it anymore. I'm not the person to go to others when I feel weak and useless. I'm just not that person. It's hard to convey to others what's wrong when I don't even know what's wrong myself. I feel empty and broken like nothing would be better that not not be.

(Inner monologue) I miss the days when I could just look at somebody and fall in love. When I could admire everything about them and not doubt myself. I have been rejected and made a fool so many times the fear of being enough is unbearable. It's as if all the people around me are a constant reminder that I stand out. My features are not slender and fragile as society tries to depict what boys want. I hate the sensation of knowing this. The worst part is that horrible 'what if'. What if he was looking at me, what if he thinks I'm beautiful, what if he loves my personality. Words spoken by a downright fool. Words of a girl who was foolish enough to give her heart to a selfish boy. I am constantly led astray by your gestures, the shifting of those beautiful eyes of yours. As if there was more depth behind your words then the true meaning. There's a part of me that let's people read through my poems and listen to my songs. There's this sick comfort in knowing someone knows the troubled thoughts of my head. There's a comfort in the fact that I know you better than those other girls. Not just what you've said, but what I've read on your face. I'm terrified, I'm terrified, I'm terrified, that if I have you your own personal porthole into my ocean of jumbled thoughts that you would reject me. That the insanity of it all would drive you back to land. I live in a world of pretend, where fictional stories are a possibility. I'm a wreck because my heart is a confused organ. It can't tell a friendly "hello", from an "I love you". As if I even could comprehend love. Yet somehow I know it, I've felt it. There is such thing as young love, for that is the pulse of the heart, to feel. But it gets confused. The mind deludes the heart with fabricated untruths of you. Of the person I so want you to be. I am going to be honest with myself and say I would love any boy who showed the slightest amount of interest in me. Such a horrifically naive heart that seeks out good in everything. Especially handsome boys. But have you ever met a handsome boy with good intentions. I have not. Nor will I ever let go of that hope. So there. I cannot let myself be hopeful about you. I would end up humiliating the both of us, and looking like a fool. Besides, how could you love me. Maybe you would if you saw the inside, but boys never look within.

#innermonolouge