And she thinks I’m too loud, but her friend finds me too quiet…

And I’m definitely too much on the whole…
but still not quite enough.

There are times when I’ve been handsome, beautiful even, when the mood strikes you… yet entirely too plain, too ugly, too average for most.

Let’s take note — I was too serious, yet far too funny… Too tough, too soft… Too friendly, yet distant… so very distant.

Sometimes I’m just too smart, too experienced, too informed, yet I know nothing, can’t hold my own, and am such a dumbass…

Tomorrow I’ll be just right, but today I’m just not?
Yesterday though… yesterday I was perfect… but still I wasn’t… just ask him.

And everyone has an opinion, like somehow my body, my personality, my actions, my very soul is up for debate, correction, change at the whim of the public, the call of the masses, the directive of the individual… the demand of you…

So fuck it, I think. Who cares what the collective you thinks, what you want, what you need…

Yet I do care! I want the world to voicelessly proclaim in silent adoration how much I’ve suffered, how greatly I’ve performed, how far I’ve exceeded expectation, how worthy I am of spoils beyond number for what I’ve done, what I will do… what I wish I’d done…

But realistically I know we are programmed to see the faults. We are designed to see what’s wrong, what can be better, what isn’t like us… or isn’t like how we’d like to see ourselves, more likely…

So I’ll simply continue to be too me…
And you can continue to be way too you…

And we’ll absolve ourselves to disagreeing about our general perfection and imperfection as we must… as we should.

The sun rose again today,
Contrary to last night’s “End of The World.”
I should be comforted by this…

I watch her rise above the horizon,
Fiery tendrils reaching across the sky in a blaze of defiance
Against my anything and everything.

Why does she choose to mock my mood?
To squash my worries like ants on the pavement?
Discredit me with the simple act of rising?

She just beams, sometimes a little too brightly,
Sweet radiation cooking my skin, making me sweat.
Making me burn.

~H

Save

Save

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I wait for you.. as if you’d come…

I think of your face, your eyes… Your lips. The way your voice sounds or how you smell…

I wonder if you are happyor are you sad? Are you thinking? Is life turning out as you’d planned?

I wonder where you are now or what you are doing… What does your day entail? Your night?

Have you accomplished everything you set out to accomplish today…

Are you sleeping? Awake?

But then, I wonder  if there is a spot in your brain for me?

I wonder if you are thinking of me…
When you think of sex or when you laugh or when you dress… When you’re hurt or upset…

Do you imagine me there or do you wish me away?

Is there anything more reserved for me than a passing fragmentof thought meant for any girl that fulfills a certain need?
Am I special? Do you reserve those thoughts for me or do you do this every night with someone else?

In a year, will you still know me? Would you deny me on the street if I were to pass by? Do you get excited when you think of me or do you not think of me at all? Do you think of ways to make me happy or do you not care so long as I’m there when you need me?

I wonder if there will come a day when you are gone forever…
When you decide you no longer have a use for me… when you leave my friendship behind… outgrow me…

Would you miss me in a thousand days?
Would you miss my jokes or my laugh or my eyes? Would you think of me? Dream of me?

If I ask, please, will you think of me in that space between wake and sleep?

At times, I wonder if you’ve already gone…

But, yes, sometimes, in the middle of the night, I wait for you… as if you’d come…

And that’s my confession to you…

~H