He seems to be everything I was asking for,
kind eyes, a funny smile, a gentle touch,
but I can't seem to figure out if I am what he wants.
We speak fondly of each other,
enjoying each other's company when we sit together
yet there seems to be something missing.
He is unlike anyone I have ever been with.
He is hesitant and uncertain, sensitive and polite.
I have yet to give him what I offer everyone else.
At times I appear to be intimidated by this gentleman.
I ask myself why I am doubting him.
Perhaps because he is everything I thought I wanted.
So why am I so scared?
What if he isn't everything I thought he was?
It is a cycle with me,
throw myself into one thing,
leaving the rest of my life to fend for itself.
Wouldn't it be great if he actually worked?
Wouldn't it be better if I was enough?
I toss myself into the same dilemma each time.
So he rejected me just like so many others,
all preferring my convenient rolls in the hay over something real,
causing me to doubt if I will ever be worth someone's more.
So I was passed up for an opportunity because of inexperience,
saying my age would never get me anywhere,
forcing me to believe I will never go higher.
I often ask myself why.
Why go for yet another man?
Won't he be like all the others?
Why work harder for the impossible?
Won't I always just be the girl that failed?
I always know the answer.
He will never want me.
I will always be sitting right here, hiding behind words.
Then again I always stand right back up even if I don't go anywhere.
I guess I'm not such a bad thing.
Maybe one day I'll succeed.
You have had so many chances to take my heart.
I look at you with the thought of swaying you inside
but I opt to let you have your own initiative.
Maybe we're both going about this the wrong way,
both hesitant to reach for the other despite our desire.
I can't understand why you wait.
I could make assumptions of you won't touch me
but I know I wouldn't be anywhere near right.
I find some kind of comfort with you, the want that I know lies dormant.
I stood beside you, saying nothing of what I was thinking,
pretending to only have interest with our friendship
but wanting so much more.
Tonight you are away and I am left with these thoughts.
I am not the type to be swooned so easily
and it amazes me how possible I could fall for you.
Your kiss is gentle, your touch soft but I only felt that once.
Once was all it took.
I would like to believe I am ready
but ready for what?
A better job?
Some sort of man?
A sense of stability?
Well, yes, I suppose.
All I know is I still can't quite remember
but remember who?
The girl I was?
The inbetween me?
The woman I wanted to be?
Well, sure, I guess.
I often wonder if this struggle is worth it.
Are my fears that substantial?
I already know.
My past forms my future.
There is no way to around it
but I accept it.
If I really do, what do I do with that?
Run to another empty outlet?
Fall into old habits?
Crash head first into failure?
Well, maybe, I should.
It would be nice to say I am not scared
but I am scared of everything.
This endless guilt?
Well, all of them, I assume.
just something to let you know what goes on inside.
I often switch with no real reason,
smiling one second and scowling the next,
telling you spiteful things just because I can
because, in my head, I need to prove something.
I am not as nice as I play
or as stupid as you think.
I grow angry and annoyed very easily.
So when I do not agree with your logic, excuse me if I snap.
I grow tired of listening to ridiculous stories.
I may want to help you but boredom and impatience lure me elsewhere.
I put on nice for you because that's what you want
because it would be unacceptable if I were to lash out.
Aren't I supposed to be the kind one?
The one you can place all your inadequacies on.
I am tired of bearing the blame.
I am tired of trying only to be shut down.
An explanation, of course.
I am a horrible person if that's what you want.
A mean, hardhearted woman who could care less
because my life has made me just that.
You expect too much out of a simple girl like me
and I know, at the end of the day, you like me being a doormat.
I can not fix your life or mine.
I grow tired of hearing you.
It would be better if you found another punching bag,
better if you found someone else to clean up your messes,
better if you picked a new babysitter.
I am perfectly fine putting myself down.
I can not talk to you anymore.
You make me feel as if my words are unimportant
and your worries are much more grand than mine.
Unintentionally, you make me feel small
but you do not realize how you effect me.
I want to come to you.
Would you listen to me?
Or cut me off like you usually do?
My life has never been as easy as yours.
What I fight constantly is the battle of my life.
I cannot fight this alone
but you nor anyone else is willing to help me.
I am not asking for much, just an ear, maybe a hand.
There are moments every day,
moments when I just want to give up,
when I need someone to tell me I can make it
but no one does.
So I come to you with a shake in my voice
and you ignore the tremble.
I sit there and listen to your tales without complaint.
Understand your lack of concern is heartbreaking.
I already feel enough shame and worthless without your empty eyes.
Would it be so horrible to listen to me?
Could you put yourself aside for just a single moment?
I have gone on enough alone.
I just need your support.
You do not know what I speak,
hearing only what you want.
Do you know how you make me feel?
I once thought I had a friend in you
but now my doubts have erased you.
You do not notice when tears fall
nor do you ask when I grow silent.
I do not know how many times I have listened to you,
never have I refused your voice,
but, I suppose, that does not matter to you.
If you care to know, I feel abandoned.
If you care to see, you would have already seen I was gone.
Of course you are not concerned
because all you care about is your well being.
Do you know there was a time when I needed you?
I needed you to listen to me,
needed you to comfort me.
I may have appeared to be just fine
but I guess I gave up on you first.
I can not remember the last time.
My memory often fails me.
What else is new?
Living quite nicely in a world that continues to wear me down,
pretending as I usually do to be something I am not.
Here I sit in my nice new walls,
writing random circles around what I really feel,
listening to music I have yet to feel,
knowing in five hours I must rise to another superficial sun.
I attempted to remember being a stupid, impulsive kid
but I failed to recall anything substantial, the beauty of youth.
I know what I want but life refuses to go backwards.
Wasn't it fun to be sixteen and know absolutely nothing?
It all went to waste.
Why was I in such a hurry?
Being twenty carries more than it should.
Here I go, stepping up that corporate ladder to a more responsible me
but am I happy?
I am still trying to remember who I am,
trying to figure who I want to be.
What else is new?
What do you not understand?
I have made it painfully clear what I do not want.
Still you insist on trying to place a claim on me.
Do you not see you have no chance?
I cannot live by your rules.
I refuse to place any faith in a man I cannot trust.
I have made you no promises.
We have no attachments.
I am sorry you confused those nights I crawled into your bed.
I thought you realized what you were to me.
Your hands were nothing but a touch.
Your kisses were nothing but lips.
You knew we weren't making love.
I was lonely.
You were there.
You are a man I could never love.
I am not looking for protection or a companion or a father.
All you want to do is to take care of a girl who never really existed.
You fell in love with an image, a picture you drew,
assuming you knew me better then I did.
The truth is I don't know who I am.
You have no right to put me in your lines.
Please understand you are not what I want anymore.
Please understand you are the last thing I need.
It is hidden far below all the responsibility,
buried so low and so far between,
a constant burning of everything I missed.
I am unsure of the source,
frightened by the outcome,
this insatiable urge to act my age but how can I?
The commitment to my life overtakes,
making me guilty that I am not being loyal,
forgetting that I am still so young,
regretting everything I walked away from but why did I?
It was fear that forced me into mediocrity,
shame that blackened my once bright view of life,
making me feel as if I did nothing right in this life.
It is there boiling under the surface.
So if I laugh at nothing, do not look at me funny.
If I decide to do something unconventional, do not stop me.
Every now and again, my youth acts up and I don't want to be an adult.
At the end of the day, I'm just a girl who has been in love with writing her entire life. I am full of quirks, anxieties, fears, joys, laughter. And all I have wanted to do was give the world a smile.