Venting

Poems

1.
Isn't it crazy how I ended this summer so lazy?
Looking forward to new possibilities, but now I'm stuck at sea. Ready to drown already.
Rejection? Too much
But love.... Overmuch.
Want to move on, but I'm stuck at bay. Got caught in the current, I was swept away.
Playlists upon playlists describing my love. Only for it all to not be enough.
I wish I was asking confused as you were. I wish I could lie as you did. But I just couldn't believe it.
Gave my heart and soul. Only to be broken and returned once more.

2.
I want them to know that I'm clingy.
I want to see their eyes sparkle as I count every single eyelash.
I want to feel what they feel when they keep their hands around my waist and hug me tight.
Oh this love, omnipresent, all consuming,
Spinning my head round in circles with the possibilities it keeps presenting.
Am I selfish for wanting more?
I want so much more. I want to feel their heartbeat-
At any cost.
I want to live in their smile.
I want to see my pretty, blushing face from their point of view.
Find out what they think of my weird quirks and bad habits.
I want to become one with them in every sense of the word.
I want to feel each and every one of their baited breaths. I want to feel their fiery palms on my skin. I want to feel their heated kisses on my back.
But alas, they don't do skinship. Am I selfish for still wanting to keep them at bay?
Like tides pulled to the moon, my fate seems inevitable.
I wonder if I can keep my feelings under control,
Their touch, untainable.

3.
To be loved is to be known.
Well, if that's the case, then so be it. 
I'm as known as the sky is blue, 
as known as the weather keeps changes, 
as known as grass is green. 

I’m generally known— 
but even that, not always. 
Most times, no one truly knows who I am, 
who I could be, what I am. 

They don’t know. 
I don’t want them to, most times. 
Yet sometimes, I crave their attention. 

If to be loved is to be known, 
then dammit, I’d rather die unknown 
than be crushed by those I cherished. 

Because who in their right mind would want to know me? 
Me, the girl who talks too much, 
who shares every bit of her life 
yet gets no response from her dead crowd? 

Me, the girl who cries at everything— 
from horror stories to the tiniest of chicks. 
Me. 

Who would want to spend their best years, 
their worst moments, with me? 
Who would? 
Who would care? 

Who am I even writing to? 

Such a hypocritical girl, 
she says she doesn’t want to go, 
then cries about it, wishing they’d beg her to stay. 
So confusing, so twisted. 

What does she want?
Who is she actually?
Is she an angel? A devil? Perhaps a cat?
Or maybe a golden retriever?
Different personalities for different friend groups it seems but can she keep track? Does she do it on purpose?

But if she doesn't even know herself, how can she think that she's worth knowing.
That she's worth loving?
That's she's worth paying attention to?
Is she delusional? What keeps her going?

Is she afraid? What? Why?
What could she possibly be afraid of?
How can she live her life in so much fear?
Will she be okay?
Is this her ploy for attention?
Worrying and burdening people until they need to check in on her?
Until she makes them cry with her?
Until they're bound to worry for her?
Until she scares them away with her big emotions and big tiny issues that bother her so much for no apparent reason?
Until she traumatizes them so much that they have to leave?
Is she a burden. Is she just a burden. Is she nothing else? Will she never be anything else? Someone's friend? What about someone's lover? Does love even matter in the face of failing friendships?
Will she die a lonely death before she can even drink?
Will she ever get the hang of social interaction enough? To stop bothering everyone around her?

Sometimes, I wonder how I'll survive in this world. 
But I have to keep trying— 
they can’t say I didn’t try.