You can't describe someone you haven't met.
And maybe, you can't describe someone you've known a long time.
I don't think I know anyone.
I am just aware of their existence.
But, they're not aware of mine.
It's just a belief I have, and one I'll stick to until somebody breaks it.
Oh, look at you. Trying to be inspirational, huh?
Of course, she doubts my pseudo-inspiring speech as she is a complete pessimist. But, ignore her for now.
*-*-*-*
Sometimes, I honestly want to scream at myself. It's a little odd, but it's true.
I hate how pathetically weak I am, I'm too sensitive. I crawl around in the dark, hoping to be saved.
So much for answers.
I close the door on others, but it's so easy to unlock. And you don't even need a key.
Inside the room, is a little girl with pencils for fingers, fumbling with her hands.
You're weak, build up.
*-*-*-*
A friend shouldn't care.
I stare intently at the board, spacing out. There's always a possibility. I'm not good at keeping people.
My fingers are icy, wrapped in snow. Metaphorically, that is.
People aren't that stupid, moron.
I beg to differ.
*-*-*-*-*
Paranoia, oh paranoia.
Why are you scarring me, leaving red paint on my skin?
*-*-*-*-*
There's no excuse for bringing others down, as they are already above you. And they won't stoop to your level.
I give my gun away when it's loaded, how am I supposed to shoot if you don't hold it?
Oh wow, putting lyrics now, eh?
*-*-*-*-*
As Matthew Mayfield best said, "Sew your teeth, and feast. You ****** up masterpiece."
"But, I still love you, and you still love me."
I can't express to anyone how much this man understands me.
And I don't even know him.
"What if I don't want to be the lonely one?"
*-*-*-*-*
I need a guide.
