.

I want things that don't exist. My ideals are all wrong.
I want to fit into you. I haven't cared in so long.
I am only high maintenance in that I need to be adored.
I need to be adored.

Affected.

Lets pretend I am as unaffected as these fields I'm pacing,
And lets pretend the rain is the only thing falling fast.
I'm busy with this wall I'm at war with,
And it looks like I'm coming in last.
And I spend my time wrestling with bricks.
You constantly teasing from the other side.
But I don't know what will happen if I get there,
Everything new gets old.
The ideas I have of what this consists of...
They are all wrong.
And they are throwing me off course.
Its all or nothing,
All or nothing.
Is there no middle?
Can we just pretend I am as unaffected as these fields I'm pacing...
There must be an answer somewhere.


Photography: Muzi.

Which One's Which?

As I walk down the busy road, the rational and irrational are having a war in my head.
Its so nice to care.
but it is kind of so much easier when you don’t.
so nice to feel that flutter in your stomach.
But it kind of makes me feel nauseous.
So nice to smile randomly, uncontrollably.
So nice to have someone I want to talk to.
But it kind of drives me crazy checking my phone so often.
And it kind of makes me feel…
and that’s the thing,
im not too sure how it makes me feel.
I want to say scared.
I want to say it makes me feel terrified.
But its so nice to feel that feeling,
to actually care what someone thinks of you.
to actually want and feel and…
care.
I keep coming back to that word because, I feel I haven’t in so long.
Cared that is.
I never care.
not enough.
Its like I ran out,
I gave it all,
every single last shred of care that I could ever possibly conceive myself to give.
Enough to even forget that I deserved any of it.
Im definitely in trouble.
Is this life?
If love does exist,
(and the jury is still out on that one),
if love does exist,
what makes it be the irrational?
Maybe it isn’t.
maybe what is irrational is making yourself,
no,
I take that back,
maybe what is irrational is, believing that love doesn’t exist.
As I walk into the empty house the rational and irrational are having a war in my head.
I’m just not so sure which one’s which.

Photography: Muzi.

I'm Lost.

This is a different kind of writing. This is a, I’m lost, I don’t know where I am kind of writing. I don’t know where I am. Im focusing so much on the fact that everything is temporary that I make decisions based on that. I live my life like it is a joke. So I leave, then suffer seperation anxiety. Arrive, and regret it. Say something, then realise its implications. The only thing constant is change, I know this. I don’t need to run into it. I don’t need to make decisions just so they will trigger change. It will come. And I will be helpless. And I have to deal with that. I will be helpless. I already am. Really there is not that much that you can control in life. You can control your own actions, and that is it. Everything is rented, even my time is borrowed. My actions are mine.

Photography: Muzi.

Wall Yourself Away.

And you are so together in your aloneness, that you make everyone feel like an outsider to that. We couldn't possibly understand. Our smiling faces are to opposite to your downturned one. Our laughing voices, too loud for your occasional croaking. Our hearts too full to comprehend your walled up one, full also, but only with self pity. And we feel like outsiders when we try to fit into you, when we try to understand. But for all those moments that we are not trying, all those moments where you sit with your head bowed, eyes fixed to an unmoving point. -- it is you who feels like the outsider. You are so together in your aloneness. We can't even try pierce you.

Photography: Me.

Vertigo.

And I guess this is one of the main things you go through in life. You escape the warm, what you know, for something new. Somewhere you have no idea what you will encounter. Birth is the prime example of this. All the screaming, the pushing. The breaking through, the end of the 9 months you spent encapsulated, fed, warm, safe, in a womb. And although the other examples may not be quite so obvious, that is life I suppose, locked in a state of repetition. And although I am scared, although the warmth drapes like a blanket, the comfort caresses like a kiss on the forehead - everything you never knew you wanted is right outside your comfort zone. So I guess you keep moving, you keep moving. But oh its so hard to leave the womb sometimes.

Photography: Muzi

Dear Anxiety,

Where did you come from, and why are you here? I cannot believe you still appear in my dreams. How can you be so unaware of something, but a particle of your brain remembers. One molecule, that continues to give you grief even when you are blissfully unaware that you're even bothered by something. And it's very strange that you feature so heavily, so highly, so often in my sleep, when you don't enter my body at all when I am awake. And I wake up anxious because that is your very essence. Because you kill me time and time again in my dreams. Succeeding in what you tried daily, but failed, to achieve when I am awake.

Photography: Muzi

The Dilemma.

And the movies, the shows, the books, the world, they tell us love is sacrifice. That they are one and the same, intertwined. But why? What if I don't want to sacrifice. What if I can't anymore? Why does compromise have to be so closely related? And does that make me selfish? But I have never managed to love like that, in a non sacrificial, non compromised way. I can't tell you it's possible when I have no proof. And so I don't love. I try, I pretend. I fail. And they tell me I will be lonely... Maybe I will.

Photography: Muzi

Who Wins?

And when the devil loses, on those rare occasions, I think it might feel even worse than when he wins. At least when he wins, you got what you wanted too. When he loses, you just got what you think, what you thought you deserved. Maybe you are supposed to let the devil win. This battle is so tiring, so pointless, when all I want is to give in.

Photography: Muzi.

Please.

Can someone please tell the past that that's the only place it belongs.

Photography: Muzi.

Under Your Thumb.

I can't stand people who try and make you question yourself with every remark, every sly glance your way. For so long you successfully kept me so under your thumb. For so long I failed to even think of fighting my way out, I didn't even want to. I'm not sure what more to say, Fuck Off. It's none of your business. And although it's sad that you can one day not know anything about the person you once knew every single thing about, it makes sense, they are brand new after all. And if the cells in my body regenerate every second, why shouldn't I?

Photography: Muzi.

The Up In Flames.

And even though like i said, I know that everything is temporary. Even though I know that sooner or later, you will have to say goodbye... It still shocks me when I witness it. Let's raise a glass to the deceased. And how can you bear to lift your arm to do so? How does the heaviness thats in your heart not translate to that? The throbbing, the goosebumps, the splintered, sharp edges of your broken heart digging into you, how does that not translate into the broken smile on your face? And the goodbye that has to, and therefore does come tumbling out through your half upturned lips, tripping and falling over itself, as it escapes the warmth and what it knows... how does it manage to force itself out?

Photgraphy: Muzi.

The Past.

Head to head, eye to eye, sneer to sneer. Upturned top lips and glaring eyes. The old me and the new me, face to face. Who will win? Who will persevere? I am habit, I am one, I am only, screams the slightly bedraggled one. The scars on her arms and the snag in her voice tell you all you need to know, she emerged from a war victorious. The other is adorned only by neon, only by the light in her eyes which had not yet been put out. It was harder to bring her to battle, after all, she only fought with herself. I am improved, I am one, I am only, screams the one with light in her eyes. Head to head, eye to eye, sneer to sneer. You cant get rid of me, the other sing songs, arms high, ready, as always for battle. I am part of you. I am what made you who you are. You cant get rid of me.

Photograhy by: Muzi.

Untouched Mythology.

And we sat and twisted the words, until we made them what we want. Until we made them fit us, and what we believed. Need? Want? It doesn't exist. Those individuals, those who merge from two, slowly into one. Those for whom the fire dies in their eyes day by day. Those for whom we see their passions, slowly becoming a singular. Those for whom two heartbeats are more important, four hands to cling to, four eyes to well up, two pairs of lips to care and cry and scream so desperately. We made those individuals out to have made a choice. It will never happen to us. We don't need to take that road. And the crisis was averted. We made the words speak. We made them tell us only what we wanted them to.

Photography by: Muzi.

And What If.

'You're perfect', she whispers, her head lowering as her voice started to waver. 'But I'm busy right now. I'm busy holding myself together, with tape, and glue.' And as she said it the tears rolled, not so freely, down her face. She was not the kind of person to cry, she was a fortress. And as he stared at her, his heart breaking, he turned and walked away. And it leads me to wonder, if you should always respect a persons wishes. What if they need you? What if they don't know quite how much. What if you, being the capable one, should decide whether or not they do. What if they need you? What if it should be you, helping hold them together, with that tape and glue.

Everything is Temporary.

The words everything is temporary, in that order, with all its curves and complexities. Those words, they saved my life. They changed me. They showed me light when I thought there was none. Comforted me with the knowledge that I wouldn’t feel the way I was feeling forever. That nothing really lasts forever anyway, and why had I ever thought differently? Those words, they explained all of life’s mysteries to me. Why he never called, why she betrayed you, why they changed, why you changed, why he died. I owe my life to those words. I owe my life, my sanity to those words. As an ode to temporary I tattooed the word on my foot. I preach it almost too often. I live it almost even more. Living with the idea that everything is temporary, so far imprinted into your brain, into the very fibre of your being, its difficult to say the least. It makes it harder to assess what is worthwhile, if whatever it is is only for a while anyway. I almost feel the need to fulfil it, to make the prophecy true.

Prisoner Of The Moment.

I learnt something new about you the other day. Something that cleared the vision I had of you. that shallowed the water. I thought you were so deep, never ending. I thought I would drown in you. Sometimes you even made me feel like I should. But the bottom came flying up, shallow enough now to not even reach my knees. Removed from the moment I could see the truth.

The Irony Of It All.

If you are happy, what would encourage you to go forward? To try harder? Happiness is counterproductive. I no longer have it to strive for, only to cling to, in fear of losing it. Years have passed, tears have flowed, and I am finally where I am now. On top of the world. And now, I am finding myself making excuses, shrinking back. Almost afraid to take those steps. That question, the ‘what do you have to lose?’ it doesn’t apply anymore. I have a lot to lose – all that I’ve been striving up until now, to gain.

Morality Wavers.

She averts her eyes and shakes her head side to side, as if trying to knock some sense into herself. As if trying to convince herself that what she sees, what she feels, aren’t real. And the thought keeps circulating in her head, is this what she really wants, or is it just the taste of the forbidden fruit, the pressure of the stolen touches which are tempting her, keeping her addicted to the pounding heart rate and the lump in her throat. No one had ever touched her like that, in the exact right places, with the exact right force. Perfect chemistry. Her conscience was speaking to her, reminding her that this was not where her loyalties should lie. But too often when faced between what you want to do, and what you should do, the devil wins. She closes her eyes and tilts her head forward, as if beckoning. And the devil wins.

Theme Music.

The only way to have privacy these days is for everyone to know everything about you.
That way you have nothing to hide.

Try As You May.

As I get older im finding it harder and harder to connect. With this greater understanding of how I can never be yours, and you can never be mine, it just doesn’t seem to make sense. I once read that although we may live, act on and react upon other people, always and in all circumstances we are by ourselves. And ofcourse we are. Although I can try and explain to you the inner workings of my mind, you will never understand. Although you may try hug me as tight as possible, trying to pull me into you, I will never fit. And yet we try so hard, human beings as a race. We try so hard. It is what we strive towards, what they tell us is the end goal. And so we try so hard, for something that is, unattainable.

.

I care even when I don’t care, that’s how starved I am of caring.

Its About That Time.

At what point do you put down your ego and think okay fine, maybe this IS my fault? At what point do you put your pride aside and think okay fine, maybe I DO need to make some adjustments? Change is inevitable, change is good, I know this. Everything is temporary. So maybe the mind frame I’m in now, the one I’ve been in for a while now, maybe that’s temporary too. Maybe I don’t need so very many walls around me. Maybe I can let my guard down a bit, stop snapping back. Stop with my quick retorts for every compliment, every comment. Aiming to displease. If you can get past this obstacle course, I’m the prize I’m dangling at the end. Who do I think I am?

Sole-Mate

Never invent a person in your head, you will obviously be disappointed when you eventually meet whoever you think they correspond to. And honestly I'm tired of trying to decipher who that person is, and feeling guilty when I don’t get it quite right. How can you start with no preconceptions, or hopes for how a person will be though? Is it even possible?

Stolen.

Her head bowed, she focused on keeping the tears out of her eyes, as long as she could do that, she thought to herself, everything would be okay, he wouldn’t die. God would see the effort she was making, and give him a few more breaths, enough to last an eternity. That was the only option as far as she could see, how could she live without him? There was no way. You know when you meet that person… the one you know every single thing about? You know, when you meet that person… the one who’s front moulds so perfectly around your back when your sleeping? No? well, neither did she. You killed him before he could become that.

Miss - Conception.

So much of life is misconceptions. Assumptions that were never clarified. And people just live on, assuming.

Enough.

I would love someone to make me question this newly acquired independence of mine. Make me want to give it up. Throw me against the wall. Make me want to succumb. I know you have it in you. I know theres someone out there who can make me believe. Make me complacent. I will fight you with every ounce of me. But please just try. Make me give in. My headstrong head, its becoming too heavy now, too strong.

Photography by: Sebastiano Pitruzzello

Smile Junkie.

I think there are two kinds of people. The first kind, appreciate what good is in their lives. Not to say the second kind doesn’t, but, that is enough for them. They store away the good memories like they would store fat for the winter. The second kind, they just want more. More, more, more. When something amazing happens, they are beyond happy, of course. But all they can think about is the fact that it will end, and question when will it happen again? Next fix, next fix, all the time.

Untouchable.

I have had the best day of my life. Pure unfiltered, unaltered fun. And the smiles on the hundreds of faces around me prove I’m far from being the only one. Theres something about music that feeds you, fills something deep inside you. and I love it. Its enough sometimes to make me want to cry, that feeling you get of pure bliss, completely untouchable. And I jump, and ooze swagger out of my Nike trainers. And I feel it flow through me, high up. Please don’t talk to me now. I am part of this beat that is shaking the floor and your inhibitions. You cant touch me now. Theres nothing that can take it away. And once the music stops, you are left with the ringing in your ears, and the memory of the best day ever.

Wish Upon Wish.

I often make up whole scenarios in my head, of conversations I wish to have, and things I wish to do. One of the things I wish for hardest, is that I’d somehow stop wishing, and somehow actually execute.

Stereotypically So.

And the stereotype of the girl is so annoying for those who don’t fit into it. No, I do not want anything from you. No, I will not shackle you. No, I do not want anything from you. You don’t know what your running from. But you assumed, and you ran. And now we are both left wanting.

The Silence.

Sometimes the silence gets so loud, nothing you say could ever be heard over it. Sometimes it gets so thick, its unpiercable. The thought of screaming and trying so desperately, is no longer an option. And so the silence mutes you. and deaf and dumb you remain.

And On,

And I'm reading this book about death in your house, where you once lived. Your name and the tears that start in my heart and work up, are synonymous. I hope you are resting in peace. More peacefully than us, those you left behind. Three years today. How can the earth still turn? And I read, the sky had not changed its silence or its shape or its position after your soul rose up to it. The little girl raised her eyes to it, searching for some trace. She walked then stopped, ran then stopped, and finally sat down. But the sky still looked the same, uninterested in all the movements underneath it.

Can't Stop Thinking.

And all death leave you with is that nagging feeling. You should have been here. And I cant stop thinking it. The years are good to us. Your missing out on what would have been the best years of your life. And as horrible as that is, I cant stop thinking it. How unfair, what a horrible joke. Life, or rather death, snatched you away, like a dropped egg, moments before hatching. We’re legal now, we can do and joke and say all the things we were once aspiring to. We’re doing all the things we once planned to, but your not here, and I cant stop thinking it. If love, if tears were enough, you would be here. But somehow its not, and neither are you. and I cant stop thinking it.

.

I loved you so much in fact, that it was just shy of enough.

Fire To Ice.

And the only thing that plagues me now on those cold, once lonely nights, is the question of whether I will ever be able to believe again. Will I ever be able to feel? Its no longer a refreshing change, but now almost as worrying. Fire to ice, fire to ice.

So In Control.

Don’t think it or it will be so. Don’t utter a single word in the presence of yourself. If you knew how powerful the mind is, you would never again think a negative thought.

The Caterpillar Who Learnt To Fly.

And its all because I disliked the person I was when I was with you, that I dislike you now. Its strange how your world can turn upside down, change beyond all recognition. I couldn’t fake a laugh with you now if I tried. You were once what dictated whether or not I could smile. Like the caterpillar that thought his life would be over when he died, the butterfly found itself to be so much more beautiful. Unsure of how he had once been such an ugly thing.

The Bruised Ego

You are my go-to thought when my mind is blank. And how long can you cringe at yourself for after the fact? You brought out things in me I would rather forget. I would like to think that was me pretending, rather than the true size of my ego. I would like to think I was simply trying to match yours. After being ice for so long, I willingly turned into water for you, against all odds bursting into flames. There are some things I suppose your meant to put to rest, without ever really getting any rest from it. I wish I could go back, re-act, re-think my actions and those thoughts I never should have thought aloud. Perhaps that’s how it goes. I had been getting too used to getting my way for too long. The balance must have been wrong.

Bruised ego's heal slower than broken hearts.

Story Of My Life.

And I hate that you feature so strongly in the story of my life when you are irrelevant now. Like a lead actor that dies early on, but the plot revolves around him. And you thought you were the centre of the universe, or rather the universe itself. You are neither. You are the big bang. And I evolved from you.

There Is Light

Her head is cloudy with thoughts cramming into each other, different voices fighting to be heard. Which should she believe? The fear is the easiest to give in to. Stick to what you know, what you love. What will you do otherwise? Can you breathe? Can you move? And although those things are still possible they are done with so much more effort. Its funny how performing the simplest of tasks can feel like an eternity when you have this weight in your chest. The sweating of palms and racing of hearts is worst. Waiting for something all the time, not knowing what it is. And then what? What happens now? It is so difficult to move on when you have given everything you have. Although at the same time its easier because you know there is nothing more you could have done. Life is wonderful after awhile. Just wait and see. There is a whole other world out there. One that is all the more wonderful after your absence from it. There are so many things out there. How did she shut all the doors around herself? Thankyou for opening them back up when you left. There is so much more out there. So much light pouring in, she needs to squint to see her future.

Don't Be Afraid.

Every single cell in my body is different now than it was 10 years ago. I recycled myself.

Forebode.

I woke up today with a good feeling about the world. The beach can do that to you. in a place of such natural beauty, what can you find to be unhappy about? Eyes closed, head back, listening to the waves and the wisdom they hush hush upon your shores. Infinite, untouchable. The definition of permanence. But the problem with absolutely perfect summer days is that they are bulls eyes for something to go outright wrong.

I Know You Better Than You Know Yourself, They Said.

And people too often make accusations, question your character with only fragments of proof. And people too often believe, and begin to question themselves, wondering which of these fragments are true. I have been told many times what I am, and what I am not. I have believed too often, doubtful of myself, succumbing to you, when I should have known the truth. You can never know another person in the ways you assume you can. Actions and words are not always, if ever, carried out under the guise of complete awareness or understanding. What appears irrational to you may tumble very genuinely, completely rational, from those parts of my brain you cannot see-through. It makes perfect sense to me. It doesn’t need to, to you.

Hope.

Source: postsecret.com

False Beliefs

Fairytales make us believe that love is all encompassing, forever forgiving. Sacrifice and love are supposedly linked. So we bow and we break. We give, forgetting to take. And we laugh when we shouldn't, and think that we'll die, when we won't. Fairytales make us believe that we are born only half. So we spend our time looking for the part, that which will make us whole. Succeeding only in reaching the frustration of someone who's spent years working on a puzzle, reaching the last piece, only unable to find it. But that is not what love is. That kind of love will only ever leave you empty. That last piece will never suffice. You be the sun, I' ll be the moon. I am beautiful, with or without you.

Break From Yourself.

I just want to be alone. There is no other explanation. I am so exhausted of the stories and the smiles, the exaggerations and the lies. I want to take 10 books, sit on an island and read. No one around me. And yet my life could never work like that. It is too hectic. Everyone wants something, and how long could I really last anyway? My every thought, every action, every conversation, photo, being… all laid out for you to see. Judge me, piece by piece, and I wont even know. I want to disconnect, go somewhere no one knows my name. Start new, no expectations to reach. No prerequisite me, that i need to pretend to be.

The Likeliness Of Being

And with everyone screaming to be noticed, how will your voice be distinguished from the rest? With everyone fighting to be heard, how will you ensure you win the battle, if not the war. All they want is to be special, unique. And they are, just like the rest of the world.

Source: postsecret.com

The Why

And I have the how tamed and obedient, so much easier to explain. It's the why that keeps me wondering, and drives me insane. Why drop like an eyelid, bow your head, believe without proof? History is only the memory of something, what can be demonstrated or proved. If evidence is replaced and removed, you will believe simply what I tell you to, that will be the truth.

Emerging From You

Emerging from you felt like lifting the blinds, looking out of the window and seeing that it was a nice day outside. It was there all along. I just couldn't see the light while surrounded by the darkness.

Fix Yourself

Theres an awe that takes flutter in your chest, when you see a multitude of empty faces around you. They each have thoughts, different to those you think. Experiences that are both similar, yet different to yours. But their eyes blink and well up with liquid that they too often do not understand. Their lips smile and kiss, and scream, just as often. Someone broke them and made them who they are. Someone broke them and they had to fix themselves.

Other Than You.

Evolution dictates that we want what we cant have. Unsure of how this is beneficial to survival, the story is ever looping, ever reoccurring. Not one that can be learnt, or avoided along with the mistakes made. And bruised ego’s and mascara stained faces result. Ideas that everyone is something they are not. Falling short of the world’s wishes, or rather your version of them. But they are not. They are simply something other than what you wanted them to be. And so the cycle repeats. Your ego would love to mold them. Go ahead, try. maybe you’ll be the exception to the rule.

Resistance.

And when it all falls down around you, do not be surprised. Did I not warn you? Were you not listening? And once again you have confused yourself with god, you thought you were the almighty. You thought you could predict and decide the course of the world and the routes we would take. But once again you have been proved wrong. Is this not enough times now? we need to appreciate what is before us, there is a strength around us that is untouchable, it arises with the sun every morning and surrounds the moon every night. Do not fight it. Simply succumb. Resistance is futile. And do you not think it is so arrogant to fight the way in which things have been done since the first footsteps graced the sky. And yet if it were not so would we ever have gotten there? the importance of midnight phonecalls, of unspoken words, of the reasons behind the games, they are never considered. It is the obvious that is transparent. The obvious that is relevant. And yet the unconscious decisions could be the ones that matter most. The ones that occur beneath the surface, that our veins haven’t summed up the courage to inform our brains about yet. The secrets that take place beneath our skin are infinite. When are you going to have enough time to get to know yourself? No these things you write, the ones that are supposedly so deep… ,that’s not what you really feel. This is just what has been predestined, you haven’t found the truth yet.

Break The Mould.

And when the sky falls on my head I will simply ask why I was not there to greet it sooner, as all the world is predescribed, predestined. And I have no choice in the matter, regardless of how I squirm and scream and try change the rules, break the way in which history is written. How can you change what has already been done? How can you start a new book with nothing to write on, nothing to write with. You are nothing but a character in the story, a brick of a house. Sure without you life may be lacking, but the story will continue, the house will still stand. Life will go on.

Truth

It gets so exhausting filtering out the lies from the truth; they begin to blend into each other. An impenetrable field of grey. No one to tell one from the other. My truth is only truth to me, only occasionally. Your truths are lies to me, but you must believe them somewhere deep down. An impenetrable field of grey, who’s to know.

Ebb And Flow

Pride is a pitfall. It will make you feel things you do not truly feel, make you question decisions that were once considered unquestionable. And when you lose yourself in the strands of the wind, allow yourself to be blown, weightless, meaningless. What will become of those strands that make you who you are? Will they be separated, ripped to shreds, no longer able to make you you. And when you are so lost in your head and in the world you have created, will you notice the changes? When you stop believing in the things you once believed in, the new beliefs are false. They are temporary, and weak, like an undeveloped inkling in your brain that has yet to form the genius plan you so desperately are trying to come up with. There are no stepping stones to lead you where you need to go, somehow you need to lay them down yourself. And every step you take in life is a new one. Unchartered territory. New opportunity. But it can all begin to feel so repetitive. In a self imposed haze it is hard sometimes to grasp onto the thoughts that swirl and battle to be at the forefront. Numbness is emerging, so tiring these thoughts that often seem irrelevant. Who really cares? They are all temporary, they are all fleeting. Let them pass through and extinguish themselves in the caverns in your brain, those you will never reach. They are harmless.

Irrelevancy

It is so easy to make yourself feel that the thoughts in your head are irrelevant, the tears down your face ridiculous, and the numbness in your heart insanity.
It is so easy to repeat to yourself that it is temporary, that it is irrelevant, that you don’t care, that you are amazing, untouchable.
But it is so hard to really believe those things, for them to really sink in and make themselves at home in your pores, in your fingertips, in your actions.
How often are your words of motivation false? Arisen from fear, from doubting.
How often is your confidence genuine? Not convincing, hoping, cloying.
Someone once told me everything in life is misunderstandings, no one really knows.
No one can ever really feel.
Always and in all circumstances we are by ourselves.
How could you assume to know what someone else is thinking? Why would you even try?
Do you even know what you yourself is thinking, or why?

Avoiding Loneliness

And you should tell them the truth, tell them to stop running from their emotions, to take down that wall they have built, brick by brick. What will you achieve being separated from the world like that? Avoiding loneliness will only bring you further into the centre of it. If you never knew you can never lack, you say. But your fingertips know, your skin knows, your eyes when you close them know. Whether or not you want to, you will feel it. You may as well take control of the emotion, own it. Temporary, but worth it.

I Wrote This For Me

Not only did I not write this for you, but I wrote it for myself. I figured it was about time I started thinking for myself. You can spend your whole life trying to please other people, until you realise the only person who has to live with those decisions, those choices, compromises and sacrifices is yourself. So this is the beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning. This is where it starts.