What am I? Am I only the body? The lips and the thighs and the pussy that everyone seems to want? Is there no soul, no life, no personality worth understanding? Do I repel emotions like love? Or is it too superficial to even crave such a thing?
What else should I want? Tell me what else can I crave? What else will make me happy enough to shine from the inside.
I knew why I went, I really did. From the first "hey" I saw the hidden motives underneath. Yet I went. No, I ran as if the later regret didn't matter. And now here I am, again, hurting like I wish I have never hurt before.
Hollow tears rain down my insides as my system breaks down but I'm forced to act like I don't care; like it doesn't hurt to face it.
I wish I was satisfied by the simpler things and didn't get so hung up on emotions and pain. I wish I could be recluse, and sit in my room until the end of my days. Why won't the world simply spin without me? Run wild while I wallow in shame? Is it the same reason that he won't love me? Am I not interesting enough? Am I too soulless, mindless and void of personality for the world to grant me this one wish? Am I only worth the shallow excuse of a kiss? Does my heart really lie in my pussy and my mind on my lips?
Why? Why am I made this way? Why aren't I enough? Why won't these thoughts go away?
Why did they have to come to me? Why couldn't they just leave me be? Alone, in my room, watching cinematic excellence, contemplating reaching for these dreams that even now has tears escaping the inner chaos of me. The possibility to clear to obtain. To close to reach. To easy to work for.
And yet for some reason I still think I deserve more. More love, less stress.
I can obtain an orgasm right now but won't work for success.
YOU ARE READING
Journals By Janae?
RomanceThis is going to be a sequence of journals by me. Some of them will be in a series form were I'll attempt to tell a story but mostly they will just be ideas and feelings.
