A thousand clever lines unread on clever napkins.

I just want to watch it over and over. Where have I gone? What am I even doing. Paint on my nails, heat in my mind, ice in my tummy and my heart is swollen. Its like I'm so close. So close I can touch it. I really want to tell you. Just blurt it out. But I won't, because then it will be over. I want the chase, but I want it on both ends. Maybe I'll wake up one day and realized you followed me. You chased after me. Didn't let me get away. But that's the thing. You'll always let me get away. I'm not good enough to go the extra mile for. I referred to myself as the girl who got away one time. I was never the girl who got away. I have and always will be the girl who ran away. There's so many goals I have for myself, but yet here I am again, throwing yet another day in the fucking garbage. Sometimes, all it takes is one day. If I can go a whole day without thinking I'm crazy, chances are it's a good day. Sometimes I just want to close my eyes really tight and open them and just be in a new place. It should be that easy. Yet time and time again, I see myself changing plans and sitting exactly where I've been sitting this entire time: no where,and for the most part? Unhappy. I'm tired of having so much passion, not knowing what to do with it, and putting it where it doesn't belong. Where it isn't wanted. Let's be frank here. You and I are still playing games.That's all it has ever been to me, and I'm bored. My back really fucking hurts, my heart is really fucking sad, and no matter how hard I try, I'm still just not as pretty as I want to be. What is it about this time of the day that intrigues me so much? Sometimes I feel like I have changed a lot. Other times I feel like I am exactly the same. The same fucking merry go round, looking for the same fucking horse. And I want to hide under my bed. I want to cry as someone holds my hand across from me. And I want to drink and get lost in whatever foreign substance I come across, because I know when I wake up, someone will be there to pull me up and take care of my inability to cope with being a simple human being. I do this shit on my own, you know? Every come down or freak out or panic attack or anxiety attack, I do on my own. They call it crashing for a reason. Time and time I crash and burn and I do it alone. I lose my breath and hyperventilate and avoid eye contact so you can't see mine swelling, I hide. I don't know what I'm hiding from...maybe my conscience. Maybe from nostalgia. Nothing hurts my heart worse than nostalgia. Why is it I spend all my time and efforts helping other people I love...holding them when they cry, freeing them when their stuck, and they can't even call to keep in touch, or take me up on my offers to see what my life is about? At what point did it turn around? How many times can I watch it over and over until I get the fuck over it and move on? Remember when you were little and they told you the world was constantly spinning and you stood really still and you felt as if you could feel it spinning on its orbit? I lied on father's grave and I looked up at the stars, since I won't get to see them as clearly anymore and I swear for one instant, I felt the earth spinning, and for a moment I had that magic feeling you get in your stomach when you're a child that makes you live day to day with almost no worries. Crows feet. Brain damage. Paranoia. Growing out. The point, is that there is no point. Everyone lives numbly and mindlessly until one day they remember that magic feeling in their gut. Then they wake up, the weather is nice, the sun is shining...then they blink. And everything goes back to normal and monotonous routine schedule. It's okay. Take a deep breath... be very very still. And maybe...just maybe.. you can feel the earth turning below your feet. No one seems to listen....even when I scream.