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kiyuso
☕ Partially active. Just blogging down my messy thoughts for the record and future references. Also a story writer, typically concerning my gays. I don't particularly have any interests. It's more like, if something piques my interests, I become infatuated or obsessed.
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They're leaving me. They'll be next to me today, but the next day they are walking out the door of my life. They are talking to me as if we were best friends, but soon they'll turn their back on me and ignore my presence. They copy my work, I copy theirs, but then they accuse you of your crimes. They will smile at me, but then frown as they walk away. They will see me, but pretend not to. They will comfort me, but forget what we talked about the following day. They'll use me and toss me like a filthy toy, but I'll just sit there and take it. It's lonely, and I'm tired of the empty feeling eating inside my heart. I'm afraid, very afraid of what I can't see. I'm scared, very scared of the next day. I'm frightened, very frightened of my tears being seen. I'm anxious, anxious of my future. I'm fearful, fearful of my decisions. I'm petrified, petrified of waking up in the middle of the night. I'm terrified, terrified of my lazy personality. I'm horrified, horrified of the thoughts going on in my mind. I'm intimidated, intimidated by my own presence. These fears are disturbing my sleep, I can't close my eyes—afraid that I'll never wake up again if I shut those orbs. I'm becoming restless... |