born to be born again & again

  you cant love me? bacause i cant find you. i cant see you. because i cant see me. i cant be me around you. you arnt even you in my head, because i cant be me. i dont look at me. i look away from me. you would too.

  some things are good. some things are great others feel right. right right right.. i want to feel right all the time. i want to know who me is. not the flimsy shape of me who is head strong yet easily contorted. none of it is me. its all a trial of me. its moving the puzzle piece around to see if the edges fit. they dont. they never do. i know part of me. pieces fit in here and there. the rest is filled with idling passion, angst, and insecurity.

each day i wake and paint a face on. the one i like to see in mirrors. the one i smile with. the one my eyes sparkle at you with. i am comfortable in that skin. it is one of the few things i enjoy in myself.

  the rest is an abyss. this, this emptyness. this nothingness in me binds my mouth and keeps my body from action. this is what keeps me alone at night and quite during the day. i read to be someone else. someone who knows who they are. conviction. its the goal. though missing half of myself, its hard to stand on anything. certain things, the ones that feel right, those ones, i know. they are the right pieces that burn the passion that yearns to be let out. with few opinions there is little passion to be spent. little pulse to be felt in the veins of my mind.

  i dont know enough. i dont live. i dont experience life. i take leaps when i have to and sprint back into my comfort zones. 1 forward, 2 back. i am soft bodied. i do not benifit from the things around me. i go throught the motion. i slide by. i could do better in every area. instead i sit lost in my own head. 

  insecurity is supposed to be the cause of all downfall. right? so i start a quest for myself there. to find myself outside to inside. Sure its unorthodox. narmalcy is a joke anyway.