So Bare

I never make a sound when I cry. I always take away from everyday to make sure I don’t have any emotions leaking. I always listen to music that makes me want to cry. I keep on trying to get it out and it always teeters on the edge, but the waterfall stops when I get there. I’m written raw, I need some more practice. I’ll develop a callous on my heart so this kind of thing never phases me. I’ll just lose myself on the notes. I, I, I. I’ll make a nice photo journal of me snapping myself like a twig, and I’ll keep it with me as much as possible. I’m an isotope. I mean an ion. Yeah, that’s it. I’m an ion that’s got a special charge. I’m everything-charged. I’m just like everything, so I get repelled right into the center of everything and there’s this perfect sphere of nothing between me and you and everything else. The thing is, I don't hate anything for it. I don't see a reason to. And if it helps, I can’t breathe because I don't know what to say. I can’t breathe because I don't really feel like you deserve to feel like that and there's nothing I can do about it. I can’t breathe because I can't call and say all the right things and I can't make you feel better and I can't make you any happier. Written September 9th, 2001 © on Sep 08 2001 04:41 PM PST   18 • 0 • 10