Do We All Bleed The Same?

I just don't tell you, because your hero wouldn't look so strong anymore

I'm scared to be weak, I can't replace the mask I've worn for so long

I want to walk away, walk out of this mess

Kick up the dust and kiss the rust, goodbye

I'm so stuck.

Stuck in ways that are complicated, but so easy at the same time...I watch people let go, sail on - like it was effortless. I just can't do that...I over-analyze, I question - I want answers. I can't leave. You have my heart. This place holds my roots. But isn't it true, that a wild flower, can be replanted...? I always wonder where I would be if I never met you (four) years ago now. Would I still always be drawn back to a town of self destruction and egomaniacs? I do a lot of what I do because I love you. I'm hard to handle, I know. I have years of underlying issues that not even the best therapist (my journals) have been able to unwrap. I'm sorry I drag all this baggage into the present, and the future. I wonder what it's like to feel weightless, without drugs. Just pure weightlessness, due to the lack of the fucking world on your shoulders...I yearn to wake up, and feel completely wanted, completely in place and perfect....What's the recipe for happiness? For years I thought it was partying, drugs, drinking, driving, being just a general bad ass. But I still felt empty. Then I tried to be good, keep reading, writing, expanding my life and my knowledge. I still felt empty...I have some good people in my life. Wonderful parents, insightful grandmothers, a few close friends, and a very loving, accepting girlfriend. 

But there's those fucking issues! The self hatred, the tiredness, mood swings, the lack of trust, never believing, always accusing, going back to the devil when shhit gets bad, the general lack of giving-a-fuck for life at all...I keep writing, and talking about it, in hopes that someday, my prayers will be answered and I'll snap my eyes open, and realize it's all okay...There's so much I haven't forgiven myself for, a lot of this writing I do is my guilty conscience overpowering. 

I don't want to make myself sound like a terrible person. Because honestly, I'm not. I have done some good things with my life. There is just this part of me, that I guess I've held under wraps for too long. Not dealing with things has caused the internal wall in me holding it all back, to finally crash down. And now inside of me...a war is being waged. I can feel the sword wounds in my sides. 

For now, I'll just keep pretending ...