Good enough

A million questions without any answer ... a million excuses without reasons ... a million ways to look in a mirror, and yet none will make me better. 'cause I'm not good enough. Not good enough for me, not good enough for them. And I wake up every morning, look in the mirror and wonder why? A million "why's" ... a million sad thoughts ... And yet I cannot understand. How can I be so wrong? How could I be so blind for so long? How could they trick me into believing I am worth to be cared, and loved, and hugged and kissed... How did they trick me to believe I'm special?!

Disappointment ... over and over again ... Failure, over and over again ... Being hit, and turning the other cheek, for them to hit again ... Shouting and screaming ... nothing ... Begging ... Still nothing. I am just not good enough.

A million crazy suicidal thoughts ... and none can get me there ... A little cut on my hand - to remind me of yet another day, yet another failure, yet another one that said no. A million little cuts ... But he smiled and said "keep looking". But I'm tired, too tired ... I just want to sleep, and never wake up in front of a mirror.

I need a win ... or a cat ... or a constant reminder I only have bad luck ... or that I am bad luck ... or that I am nothing ... and nobody ... I want to get lost in the crowd and cry my million tears ... Then I will drink the glass of red wine for him ... and then another one ... and then another one ... until I will be able to tell him how much ... then I will be able to kiss him, in front of the world ... then, drunk and happy, will leave and never look back. But there's no wine, no kiss, and he's not mine ... he never was.

Wasted

The door is locked. Again.
I wish I could enter
Just for once.
I begged and prayed
I shouted and I screamed
No answer.
They don't care!
"Just let me in"
I've said.
"Just let me in the real world!!
I'll be normal,
I'll renegate myself,
I'll give away my world!"
I've shouted.
"I am too tired to fight,
Please, just please,
Just let me in ... "
I've begged.
But they don't care
The door is locked
And it will always be.
I climb the wall.
My fingers hurt
My blood is dripping
over grayish stone.
I slide, but try again
I drop. Again.
I'm hanging there
Barely suspended
between my worlds:
The one I do not want
And the one that doesn't want me.
I look over the fence...
They laugh with empty voices
I scream ...
They do not want to hear.
And then I fly away.
There is no place for me.
Free falling,
I am just waste
And wasted.

Not the right time

Have you ever realized that the world has been build on a time schedule? - on quite a short budget, I may add. It took Him seven days to make the world, in a very pragmatic way: step-by-step, day-by-day, task-by-task. Then who am I wonder how can people do the same?!

I live in the world of "this is not the right time for it". I've heard this so often lately that I'm sick of it. I'm sick of people explaining and lecturing about self-discipline and the important meaning of life versus unimportant and trivial things like love or happiness or freedom. I'm sick of important things - I want to live and enjoy trivial, non-important kisses, hugs, caresses. I want to laugh early morning in bed with him ... I want to be able to sneak out in the middle of the day for a quick run in the woods ... I want to be able to visit my friends at the end of the world even if it takes long and inefficient hours to travel ... . I want all these, even if I need to work like a slave to make up for them. Isn't this the way we are supposed to live - "live", not survive and struggle for a better "living".
These are the only things that matter ... and I am tired of explaining this ... I am tired of shouting it to people that I love ... they cannot hear, the world clock has swept them in ... all they see is the right and wrong times, nothing in between. I *know* they are wrong ... but in our reality, the majority is always right. So I cry, alone in my corner, in my beautiful, colorful world, with my beautiful, wonderful feelings to give to people that are never in the right moment for them. And I keep trying to make them happy ... it's just not the right time ... not the right time to be happy ... How naive are they to think these times are coming back ... How silly to throw away the few moments of happiness one gets to live ... just because it's not the right time.

I was born in the wrong time. I've struggled all my life to make it right, but I am still a stranger in this world of "right" and "wrong" times. They call me crazy or naive ... I am just not fitting in these templates and in this society ... and people that don't fit have two options: try to fit or run away. I am still trying to fit ... cutting myself (or my self) every day, because it's not the right time to run away, and it's wrong to kill (myself included).

Collector

Once upon a time I knew someone ... I knew him quite well, I thought. We were close, then we got closer, and closer ... and it seemed like we will be able to have our world and our little space together. Where "together" was the key word. But I was planning too much for my life. One day, he came to me and said "let's build the world together". And I, wrapped up with my plans for a bright future ... I said "let's build our own worlds first, then we will unite them and we'll have a bigger, better, richer world". He never agreed, but accepted. Next, he was gone - out of my life, out of our little space, out of reach. Just gone. I was alone with my big fancy glittering future plans. They didn't make much sense then, after all ... So I decided I am not worth the trouble - not for me, and not for anybody else. So I just slowly detached from myself ... slowly, and painfully, with calculated cruelty, I have demolished every thing that ever counted for me. Letter by letter, I have erased myself. Until I was just an empty shell - the most comfortable, cold and clean shell you can imagine.

Since then, I am collecting people. One by one, I try to take them close to me, to get me warm and to make me feel alive again. Each and every one of them redefines me ... I collect their image of me and project it on my empty shell. I embrace it as my new self, and I start building up a world around it. It's fake - I know - as most of them don't even realize they are collection items. But somehow all these worlds, and all these alternative futures are my substitute for life. I have a new self every time someone is close to me. I am a new person every time I fall in love again. And again. Don't get me wrong - I am completely honest in my feelings ... but how real can the feelings of an empty shell can be? I get hurt - I cry, and I feel pain ... but I collect the new world and its future - only a fantasy, but oh, what a sweet one.