do you know the way you move me ?

sometimes i wish i was someone else. or i wish that i lived with someone else, and experienced the same things they did. i look at the pictures of white doors, sun shining in through the window. table by the double doors, flowers. hardwood floors. i wish i lived there. or knew the person that did so i could sit there and never leave that spot. maybe things like this are all around me and i have no idea because my mind is shut off. things are too familiar.

i want to live in a big big city where everyone's too busy for me.

or what i want especially is to be comfortable with everyone around me. i think i could name a good 3 people who i feel especially comfortable with no matter the circumstances. not including my family. why is that? why am i not sociable? will i ever be?

it's sort of annoying that everything has to be this big ordeal because i don't want to be "stuck". yanno, i do miss you. i really do. but sometimes you're overwhelming, and like i've stated before, i honestly feel like you take me for granted. that hurts and i think i lose a little respect for you there. :/ i'm sorry.

i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry.

i'm sorry.

" i see everytime you seek my face

i see every movement of your heart towards me

i see every little movement of your heart towards me.

i see your love.

my beloved, i see your heart. "

i just want to write sometimes.

secrets:

"I'm more afraid of my past than my future"

that's so true, not only to him, but in my life. it's sad. i think of all of these ways i could resolve it and make everything better, but i really think i'll have to cut every tie. every single one and i'm not ready. it's woven deep into my skin, ready to blow through as the toughness of my skin wears away. maybe it's getting thicker. please get thicker.

we're growing together, it's almost like we're the same person. we have more similarities than i ever imagined. we keep discovering each and everyone, yet it's no surprise. it's almost a given.

i really miss being your friend.

i read that book of poetry, then i stop. because it's more than a book of pretty words.

i dunno, i can't really contact you. i don't know what to do.

i don't know what to do

i don't know

what

to

do.