A.P

I’d like to pretend that we are more than just friends

and let my dreams spin out so I can see, that me

and you are more than what I hoped we would be

but that vision is just a lie as much as I pretend otherwise

and it’s not to say that you had hoped it’d be this way

but I need more than that half given heart of yours to stay

So I’ll sit here and wonder if I’ll ever have another

that made my heart beat fast and the candles turn to wax

with the heat that you radiated and the smile that glowed

You could have been mine, but I guess I’ll never know

I'm not someone's hero. I haven't done anything that I believe deserves merit or recognition. I have made decisions when events come my way, and I never knew if they were right at the time, but they were right for me. Does this somehow make me a special person? I understand that my life has been a difficult one and that a lot of other people would have turned and walked away from reality a long time ago. But I've always kept my feet firmly planted on solid ground. This doesn't make me special. I think I'm more scared than anything else. I am scared that I am comfortable in my unhappiness while at the same time I long for the gentle lapping of life, instead of a crashing wave. I understand that I am more comfortable in uncomfortable situations, but that is only because I understand how to deal with those better. That doesn't make me admirable, smart, special, extraordinary, commendable or what have you. That makes me pitiful.

To the Top

I climbed to the top of a hill today;
the wind whipped my hair about my face,
bent the trees til they were at my knees
and it looked like chaos had begun.

On one side it seemed as if there was torment,
Dark clouds pregnant with rain
were ready to cause a torrential downpour,
I feared because it seemed there was no end.

On the opposite side, just down the way,
There was calm.
No wind rustled leaves stirred at my feet,
I might have had a glimpse of blue sky
far, far in the distance.

It is funny, you know, to think that we mirror
nature and Her contradictions.
Two selves were clashing together,
One resonant with pain and the other, peace.

It was were my mind was at,
This confusion of who I wanted to be
and what I wanted to show.
Like the two sides of the hill I had pain and peace,
And I kept turning and turning round,
Hoping for an answer in the weather.

I would like to be the sky,
Looking down at me spinning in circles,
Maybe then I would understand which way
to push myself, down one side or another.

I walked to the top of a hill today,
And realized I was climbing inside of myself,
To find the truth and understand my emotion,
But I am still lost in thought.

Am I Supposed To Be Happy?

I thought I had you figured out,
Your words made me light and full,
My first guess was wrong,
And my second one was too,
Now I'm left with another bruise
on an already beaten heart.
I have let myself be fooled,
This is just another to add to my list
of growing hurts saddled to my back,
Thanks for proving me right,
That nothing seems to go my way.
Just once I would like to rest in arms
that would hold me closely,
Hold me together,
Instead I get the arms that tighten,
To steal what little breath is in my lungs.