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Array
(
[sid] => 116542
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => A Cold Chapter
[time] => 2006-03-16 21:52:55
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => I found that emotionless person starring back at me in the mirror today. Today I look at my life as a person, My character. Who am I? The people surrounding me, I can spot every flaw and every mistake. They talk the lies, Ooh those lies, They make me sick. But then today when I looked back at my personality, I realize am I much more than I criticize. Am I the same person I hate to be, The one that I can’t stand inside, The person who is nothing more than the other, The same, The exact same? I hate that word “same”. I choose and try so much to be different, But I’m still the same and sit here and wonder ways to be different. Everyday I crave for the attention I don’t deserve, And yet I still get it. Why is life so good to me when I’m no better to it? Living a lie and wanting to be someone I’m not, Looking like the person I’m not and can’t be. I wear the makeup and do the hair styles I think I like, But in the end is that really how I want to express myself? If that is the only way I can express myself am I really feeling like the way I look? Does anyone feel like the way they dress, Like they want, Or do they just do it for the deserved attention they still never get from the ones that love them? Funny thing is that I don’t love anyone the way I feel. Because feeling and saying it are different. The risk of not being loved back is a worse feeling. No one can really know for real if that person is for real. There’s another word I hate, “Real”. What is real? What is the meaning of real? Wanting to be with the person is different from love. You let them go, If they are right for you they come back, So they say. I disagree. You love them? Then keep them close. If you keep them and they don’t love you back doesn’t that hurt even more? But not as much as letting them go and hoping so much for them to come back feeling the same. Then they disappear forever, In the fog, Of what is real and surreal, Of another *****, That he thinks is better for him. Damn that word. What makes up life is from what you make life of. Lesson learned. But I still can’t find the way to open the same old book, Already a quarter way done, To the first chapter of the beginning in my lived life, So I can start over and go the other way, Away from the pain. So yet I sit here with more uncontrolled emotions, And emo music loving nothing more than The life I live alone. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 231 [topic] => 43 [informant] => EvaLastingRose [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 1 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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