The Overthinking Addict

Desire

I've wanted to be desirable. I've longed to be the envy of many. To turn heads, to knock them dead and have them crave me. To have such an adventurous life with everything figured out, that they'd wanna be me. Tight, toned body with the good looks, ass so big that everyone looks. Wits and tits to make you go weak, intonation to control your mind with the words I speak. Living like tomorrow would be the last day, cups and bottles pouring up like its my birthday. To showcase my talent to entire world, so they'd know by these words and this voice, that I'm no average girl. To capture your heart because I had it all, to see you feel and then watch you fall. But let's be real, no one's obsessed, it isn't a contest, don't take it out of context right before I'm about to confess. Juvenile as I was, I truly wanted to be the epitome of perfection, the exact definition of a human addiction. Desired silly things because I was a damn fool,and because bitches were always bragging about this at school. You had to be pretty and have it all to make it somehow? But I'm doing okay, and I'm still the same right now. See, when the looks fade and the lies melt, the truth could never shade the thoughts in your head. A Temporary fix will never treat a permanent scar. No amount of makeup or good looks can mask who you are. To think I actually thought this was all important, I didn't even feel like getting out of bed in the morning. The need to compete, feet firm on the concrete, I pushed my finger down my throat and let it all out. I pushed myself to the limit to satisfy my doubt. I needed you to notice that I can be the one who can do it all, but the more I tried, our relationship stalled. To pause a hectic life to deal with insecurities and self extremities of my exterior. I broke down, hospitalized because it affected my interior. Its like painting on the outside of a house and calling it a home, it'd never matter what's on the surface, but the weight of my soul. I was running around in a circle to finally see the truth. Maybe it wasn't me, but it was you. Maybe all that I am, is good enough. Maybe for you it may not be much. If all I have to offer is a shoulder to cry on or a pair of ears , call it a fortune. For we are surrounded by eyes that grant stares and ears that hear, yet never listen. But if all I have to offer are my words, call me wordy because I am worthy and if you read them and feel, then maybe then, you'll be worth me.