July 29, 2011

I wish I could say it. I wish I could say it. I wish I could say it.
Faulty idioms; I'm reluctant.

I'm left with more than I can take. I can barely make it through the night, clinging to the concept of exemption, evidently lying within the structure of this computer screen and not where it's supposed to be. Nothing I want to be real is fit to be certain and I'm suffocating. From you? Impossible.
"I'm misleading... Never mind, I contradict it." I can't force myself to like this game anymore.
Begging, begging, begging. Then I quit.
I'm not who you think I am but it's too late now. You're in. You promised. And I'll watch you run away only to beat yourself up over my "I told you so's" you denied before. Go on and pretend this is nothing. Pretend I'm bluffing. The girl who cried wolf. There's no way to explain it to be true. Just trust me?
Don't take this lightly. Don't take me lightly. There's nothing left of me, it's inevitable. Take it or leave it.
You claim you know. You don't. Pretending isn't necessary. I'm fooling you, your assumptions prove me just.
Do you have to make me feel like I'm not really aware? I'm angry. I'm sorry. I'm defeated.

This isn't confusion. It's your misunderstanding that for me it's extant and for you it's "perhaps" obtainable. I don't require answers. I want assurance.

Eloquence: Nope.
Prematurity: Clearly.