And just for thought...
I always have the best conversations in my head with every intention of having them with the actual person.
I am charming, yes, without the fumbles that usually come from these lips.
Words pour out that touch everyone's heart but in reality I am always side tracked.
I worry about what you might think, knowing ultimately I do not care.
I imagine you sitting in front of me,
relinquishing burdens that hang heavy around my neck.
I appear to be more intelligent, eloquent in my own mind.
Maybe I play faces too much, let you believe what you want too often.
I get lost in the end, missing my point completely.
Perhaps, I'm too much of a hermit.
I could write the world a poem but would anyone read it?
I become claustrophobic in my own skin, tugging at my neck like a man in a suit.
I start to imagine people sitting around my table.
I am forthright, obtuse, nonchalant in these conversations with little emotion.
Maybe it's just easier to talk to people who aren't there.
After all they do as I instruct.
Is it fear that keeps me so isolated?
In the end, I am not concerned with you or you or you.
I could tell you a million things but I know the way my hands shift.
I would love to talk to you but you'll have to meet me in my head.
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.