Garbage Post: Conversation In Confusion With Pamela On A Cloudy Day

Okay,

Well I just want to sit beside you and rest. You know? Like don’t think about anything else besides being loved as I am. No more, no less. I seem to feel like an incomplete puzzle that even I don’t attempt to put back together. Feelings piling in an open door with lies again, if I let them in. Then I think about the people who I don’t make time for because people out here need someone to listen. Someone to care about them and read their stories. Look them in the eyes, nod without worrying about the time or a smartphone alert. Yeah, no human is an island. Connected in more ways than we’d like to admit but distracted over tags and worthless bags we use that are meaningless in or to the universe.

Excuse me, I was supposed to just sit here and lay on your chest without saying anything and here I go again. Literally crying because there is so much to do and I feel inadequate in my chase of perfection. Not to brag or look down on anyone, to feel complete. Instead, things are left unfinished because I get half-way and think, maybe it doesn’t matter as much as previously thought. Perhaps this effort isn’t up to par so instead of finding out what that means and how to do so, a sticker that says abandoned is placed on my works. Hypocrite leader. Saving those around me at times while missing vital parts of myself. An April fool in every school, every class. Yet I know better.

Like a good singer, singing a song people love, then slumping in the corner as if removed from it all. It was great they say. Wonderful! The singer won’t believe it. Can’t receive it all. Sings us another! The singer does it out of a need to empty scattering feelings within. Said feelings scatter like a terrified pest when a light gets close. A friend whispers to them, who told you that you have to do anything today? Who lied and said you have to keep your arms open wide until sundown? Was it you? The bottle? The pipe? A NEEDLE?! ANSWER ME!

Therefore, allow me to just rest here. To recover my breath from running from everything important. Then I will arise and be more efficient. More aware of what I’m doing. See, the real truth is, I just want to do what’s right and be right. Not hatefully. I’ve got to take care of the basics first. I’ve got to take better care of myself first. Swear to stop being afraid of silence and stillness.

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