as I meander through the streets of the city, read in the library, cook my dinner and crawl into the couch, one feeling is ever present. 'ow', is the most apt way to describe it. a dull aching pain, emanating from my heart, which refuses to give way to much else. a laugh from a friend makes it disappear for a moment, but as if it's afraid it's going to be forgotten, it comes back.
I want to see you for what you are, face you entirely, feel you as you are. but, you hide. you masquerade, lie, cheat, and scurry off into the dark each time I try to push you to the light.
but I do know where you come from. you're fear, angst, anxiety, the possibility of being disliked, the look in the mirror when my hair won't work, and the sound of my friends' voice when I read their written messages aloud in my mind. you're a ghost, a specter, a product of my imagination. you come from within, but you are not a part of me. you're mind.
what is the point of a mind that thinks the wrong things all the time? who is this thing that influences me so and why does he do the things he does? he could be happy and at peace, should be, even, but he's anxious and filing my head with all the wrong thoughts.
he must not like me. i don't like him either.