Pain.
My pain drives me to action.
Why?
When I am alone I create more.
Why?
Why does creativity spike when it's only my sadness and I?
Is it a sign?
Everything is a sign.
Loneliness = beautiful art
When I feel my loneliness I get rewarded with creativity and inspiration..
Maybe I create more because these feelings are bursting out of me. Some sort of flow is happening.
There's a reward for experiencing my bad feelings...
Why am I not granted the same reward for being "happy" and with loved ones?
(Maybe I am, but I don't notice?)
Perhaps the loneliness is always there, but I don't know it exists until I look at it. Like the air I breath. I would notice if it stopped existing.
I only look at my loneliness when I am alone.
Meaning that I'm lonely with other people too, but I can pretend I'm not..
because they can distract me..
Perhaps I am their distraction too. Perhaps it's more accurate to call my friends my distractions.
I don't want it to be that way. I want my friends to be my friends.
What about my girlfriends? Are they distractions too? That feels awful. That would mean that I used them. And they used me .
If it is true, you were my favorite distraction.
Have I ever had a real relationship?
Is it even possible? Do I need to fix my sadness before I can have any real relationships?
What if nobody has ever had a real relationship? I doubt that to be true but it's possible. Humans are great at doing things wrong.
I want true connection. I want the love God designed. I am literally sick from the fake love. Literally. My body is ill. My face shows my illness with its blemishes. My skin shows my illness with scars. My muscles show it with aches. My eyes show this with tears. My mind shows this with wails. My heart shows it with compromise.
I'm sorry for not being completely genuine. I know you weren't either, but I control me. I want to be completely genuine though.
Thinking of a genuine connection with you wakes up the butterflies in my belly.
A genuine connection between us.. Tears.
I've fallen in love with the fake love, I couldn't imagine the real love.
How does a heart choose?
Do you know what I mean?
Does it sort of "just happen?"
Is it even my heart? Or is it my anatomy? Is it my stomach? What is it?
For now, I like to believe it's my heart. I want my heart to choose you.
I want your heart to choose me.
I want your heart to choose.
I want your heart.
I need to focus on my self.
I can only improve another life once mine is improved. But I want to do more than improve your life. I want to become your life. Is that selfish? It sounds selfish. It feels selfish.
My lips are a wild animal, I apologize.
When I let my lips run, they say things I love.
But I am afraid of what they say when they're running.
When they're running, there is no filter. They can't be controlled.
They're a wild stallion.
They always want to run.
