what happened to me?
i used to never run out of things to say. and damn it, i hate repeating myself but it seems that’s all i do. i can’t be stuck. i can’t be stagnant. i can’t be… losing my words.
what happened to me? where did i go? why is that precious part of me so difficult to hold on to now?
it’s funny that i can only write well when i’m sad, depressed, or pissed off. am i supposed to keep hurting so i can express myself? so much hurt… i wish i hadn’t gone through broken trust and false friends. they say these things only serve to make you stronger, to mold you into a better person… but… they also make you wary, hesitant, afraid.
despite the fact that i seem sociable on the outside, i don’t really share too much of the self i have inside with just anyone, because i have had enough of pretense and lies. it’s difficult to trust, and although sometimes i go by my instincts, how can i really know? i’ve been betrayed by an angelic face, so don’t be surprised if i automatically tiptoe around angels. a person who shows he or she can be an asshole or a bitch is so much better than one who hides behind a mask of sweetness.
i don’t trust pretty innocent faces. who knows what fiendish thoughts lie behind them?