the years roll over me, taking me step by step as my legs stay in place.
i wish i could say that i understand it all.
but i don't, and that's the cold hard truth.
i don't understand how i still have hope for us, i don't understand how i let the minutes wash over me like water
it's okay
i think to myself.
my thoughts wonder sometimes.
sometimes places i please to go, others i don't.
i understand that i can not control it, yet it still bothers me.
maybe it's my small complex of knowledge, maybe that's why i don't understand a lot of things.
i would like to believe that i don't understand a lot of things at least.
i don't like to believe that i understand why you leave me on read
or why i loose friends so quickly
or why i feel alone, all the fucking time.
but i do. i understand. i just don't want to.
i want to blame it on something else, something completely unrelated.
you hate it when i do that though.
i speak my mind, you shut it down.
i bleed into pages with ink, you crumple them up and throw them away.
you know, the only way my heart knows how to speak
is through pages with ink?
yet you don't care.
and i don't understand why.
that's okay though.
i don't mind.
