Surface Idiot

People operate on different levels of depth. 

Sometimes I just can't go in. 

Or bring somebody out. 

Or even hold my sanity, honestly.  

I don't like the word "shallow" anymore. 

I'm trying to understand the limits that bind us.

And how we form our various perceptions of reality. 

I don't like the word "stupid" anymore. 

Logic can be too fucking hard when you come at it from the wrong angle.

And you are simply AT the angle you are AT until you MOVE.

But you can't always place yourself in the right position under every circumstance. 

You've only got your own frame of reference. 

It's about becoming enlightened. Which isn't an easy thing.

The word "stupid" is a cold harsh judgement. 

I don't like the idea of judgement anymore.

I'd rather look into what creates the flaw,

or the idea that something is wrong,

and I want to explore how healing or just acceptance can begin.

I wish you would be gentle with me instead of insulting. 

It's like you put me down at every turn. 

At nearly every opening you stop to point out a miserable aspect of me. 

I can't explain the meaning of things I believe when you approach me

with such an attitude of superiority. 

It puts me in a sad and lonely headspace. Makes me withdraw.

Or, it makes me angry. 

And I just can't speak on those terms.

You handle your judgements so carelessly. With such stupidity. In such a shallow way.

I cannot educate you. I don't have the strength to make you see. 

I simply tolerate you. But you will never change your approach with me. 

It's been a problem since the beginning of our relationship. 

You don't take me seriously enough when I try to tell you. 

You seem to crave conversation. And you get so upset when I lose my voice. 

Stop calling me bad names and hurting my feelings and I might get more comfortable. 

I was thinking about some recent bullshit you threw in my face. 

Connections you made to make it seem like I am just a fucking fool. 

And I wonder how you can even stand to kiss me when I'm so below you. 

Oh, wait. We don't really kiss very much these days. 

And I remember when you used to pleasure me until my cums were numberless. 

You said I "deserved" it. I guess that affection died. It's been awhile.

A hopelessly long while. 

I could never ask for such devotion. It's in your hands. 

And it isn't fair because I have never been a lover to you anyhow. 

I have no confidence with you. No sense of intuition. 

And it's strange to just use you sexually. With no real extra giving. 

I wonder what is wrong. 

I can't blame you for leaving me empty when all I do is drain you dry. 

You try to show me what's in your soul. And it's brilliant. Your mind is beautiful.

You're just caught on a bad fucking angle with me. 

 

 

Boundaries. Rules. Thoughts. Opinions. 

Ways of opening. And closing. 

Places that are safe. And then the dark. 

I just wanted to touch because we could. 

I feel sad for what I cannot reach. 

Now that I'm gone out of the house, my parents have stopped fighting to a large degree. 

But correlations do not reflect causes. They don't. You have to look deeper at things. 

I'm tired of being insulted by him at every turn. 

Insecure. Uncertain. Withdrawn. 

Protecting some stupid fucking vulnerability. 

You want me to open up?

I would crumble. 

"watching old baseball games and low budget telethons

aint like watching you yourself, when you yourself is on"

--Tegan & Sara

Seriously. Look within. You'll never be bored with yourself. 

Some people are just like, BAM! Interesting, you know? They make a conversation vibrant and thrilling. And their touch is refreshing. And they move you. They give you energy. They get you happy. 

And you find this brilliant spark of life in your heart. 

I have a runny nose, no cool clothes,
and my skin is just AWFUL.

But I suppose I should be happy
cuz my music is good.

"and if I could
reason
I'd settle this thing"
- Mandalay

Halfway and Nowhere and Trapped Somewhere Wrong

"What are you doing?" he asks indignantly, and it's the same old fucking story. Yet another version of the same situation. And you don't know how long I've just been sitting here, looking at this page, thinking. You don't know how hard it is for me to write. I got up and I looked in the mirror and I tried to find my soul in my reflection. I tried to get a hold of my mind, by looking into my own eyes. And these words came to me: Don't let yourself be caught here. 

Stuck. 

Stagnant. 

Stressed. 

I'm afraid to speak. 

"It is often safer to be in chains than to be free." 

 - Franz Kafka

What's this thing that makes me hide? Why should I feel so vulnerable?

"I think the worst time to have a heart attack is during a game of charades."

--Jonny

.

lacking

I wish I wasn't afraid to take the things I need, to touch the things I love, to say the things I mean.