September 6th, 2009

The darkness reached out, only to find my hand, and it was all so unplanned, but I went along with it anyway. This was a different side, the one everyone tells me is right, but why does it feel so wrong to the point I’m forced to hide it then, and why is everyone trying to pry it out of me. Time takes the best of me, and I need as much as I can to figure out myself, but it keeps yanking, and I can’t hold on anymore. How do you keep something inside that’s dying to get out, words that you’re proud of but ashamed of who you are with how you feel. I can change who I am, but I’m scared, and the trust isn’t out there for the comfort of my secrets to find. So they stay written in stories, hidden in words, read them between the lines if you want to know. How could you do that to me, you put me on the spot, you try to break me, and half the time I can’t see why I bother to call you a friend. Tell me I’m going to hell, and I hope you realize you’re the one sending me there, pushing something on me that I’m not ready to confront myself about, yet along with you. This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out, but if it worked, I hope you’re happy now.

(Originally Posted Here)