Bent Me ‘Til I Broke

I thought I had it all figured out. I thought if I stopped letting things fall silent, if I stopped accepting what deep down I knew I could not, if I made myself known, if I shared of my fears as well as my joys, if I said something someone would hear me. Nodding and acknowledging that I’ve spoken doesn’t mean you heard me. Hearing the words doesn’t mean you understood me. Understanding the words doesn’t mean you care enough to change anything. I’m not talking anymore. I’m tired of talking, always talking, talking myself in overdone, insane circles that leave me where I started. In the end… you didn’t hear me anyway. I’m tired of not being heard.
So you know what? Do whatever the fuck you want. I’m not going to be one of the many anymore. You had your choice. It was me or them. You chose, you choose over and over and over and swear you’re choosing me. What a fantastic load of bullshit.
See before I was forgiving. Now I just don’t believe it to begin with.
I’ve found a warning sign.

~ by Kд§$ị (ИovΔ) on 05/31/2009.

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