I can hear the soft breathing of the girl that I love,
As she lies here beside me asleep with the night,
Her hair like a mist as it floats on my pillow,
reflecting the glow of a winter moonlight.
But she knows and I know that I’ll never be,
as good as the ones who came before me
So I’ll play my guitar and I’ll gently weep,
Drowning in my man made sea.
I normally try to refrain from talking about specific events or people, but there’s something I really feel the need to talk about. People do bad things for whatever reason; they’re upset about something and they’re lashing out, they’re seeking attention, or sometimes people just get a big kick out of making other people miserable.
I wish just once that someone would be excited and involved in the decisions I make. When I say “I’m thinking of cutting my hair” I wish someone would just fucking pretend to act interested. Instead of saying, “Eh, if you don’t like it it’ll just grow back” or “just do whatever you think is
God it’s almost frightening how similar my thoughts and feelings are to things I have written in the past. Here’s the post I made April 3rd, 2013. I suppose I’m stuck in a rut, a never ending cycle that will happen to me every couple of years. I sure hope not, but we’ll see. A