I'm scared.
I've avoided writing with my pen because I figured it would be less evident that I was in extreme pain via Internet and text messages.
I'm scared of all the things you once voiced your fears about and I told you not to worry.
I'm surrounded by people who want to see me fail and you were that ounce of support and respect I need.
As I concluded my summer session and realized I can officially call myself a senior now I realize I'm terrified of not achieving my goals. I don't even know if I'm sure of what I want to do anymore. I just know I want to have enough money to live more than comfortably and I want to wake up and be excited about have to go to work.
Is that greed? No, it's simply a feeling of entitlement because I feel I've worked my ass off since i was 15 and that's more than a lost of people my age can say.
I've remained focused and through frustrating times found my positive escapes, ie. writing, music, and loving you.
So you've been awaiting the return of my poetic genius... Here it is:
Dear Love,
I would never miss a beat with this here poetry.
But, at times I feel like my sole reason for doing this, has died. My relationship with love has been truly compromised.
While I can't ignore my avid belief in it along with it's power,
I feel betrayed by her conniving ways.
See, love, I thought has always been nothing but good to me. But, I keep questioning why she placed my one true love before me when I simply couldn't fully enjoy him?
I left the pen slighted midair awaiting a new revelation, but that's the thing when you know a love like ours is so pure and true, nothing could ever surpass that.
I've strayed in attempt to capture my wit in random rambling of my daily events but dismal to anyone else are my thoughts on current events.
See, the point of it all is to be there for another when they fall.
Otherwise, we'd never let love come inside our lives.
And, ultimately, no matter how long the poet in me decides to stay in hiding, She's always longing to be free because that's the only promise of her sanity.
Despite any other requirements, baby steps or even a crawl back to normalcy,
LOVE TRUMPS ALL,
that's normal enough for me.
Always,
Simplicity
~~~
I've avoided writing with my pen because I figured it would be less evident that I was in extreme pain via Internet and text messages.
I'm scared of all the things you once voiced your fears about and I told you not to worry.
I'm surrounded by people who want to see me fail and you were that ounce of support and respect I need.
As I concluded my summer session and realized I can officially call myself a senior now I realize I'm terrified of not achieving my goals. I don't even know if I'm sure of what I want to do anymore. I just know I want to have enough money to live more than comfortably and I want to wake up and be excited about have to go to work.
Is that greed? No, it's simply a feeling of entitlement because I feel I've worked my ass off since i was 15 and that's more than a lost of people my age can say.
I've remained focused and through frustrating times found my positive escapes, ie. writing, music, and loving you.
So you've been awaiting the return of my poetic genius... Here it is:
Dear Love,
I would never miss a beat with this here poetry.
But, at times I feel like my sole reason for doing this, has died. My relationship with love has been truly compromised.
While I can't ignore my avid belief in it along with it's power,
I feel betrayed by her conniving ways.
See, love, I thought has always been nothing but good to me. But, I keep questioning why she placed my one true love before me when I simply couldn't fully enjoy him?
I left the pen slighted midair awaiting a new revelation, but that's the thing when you know a love like ours is so pure and true, nothing could ever surpass that.
I've strayed in attempt to capture my wit in random rambling of my daily events but dismal to anyone else are my thoughts on current events.
See, the point of it all is to be there for another when they fall.
Otherwise, we'd never let love come inside our lives.
And, ultimately, no matter how long the poet in me decides to stay in hiding, She's always longing to be free because that's the only promise of her sanity.
Despite any other requirements, baby steps or even a crawl back to normalcy,
LOVE TRUMPS ALL,
that's normal enough for me.
Always,
Simplicity
~~~
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