April 18, 2014

Is this a true journal? Or is it all in my mind? I can’t seem to be able to grasp what is true and what is not anymore; my mind has played so many tricks on me that I feel stupid to try to fight against it now. I sit here in this desk, clicking the keys making up words that turn into sentences and paragraphs; never knowing if it’s what I truly want to say.


Is this all I have to offer? It appears to be so, for this is what I find myself doing a little too often, taking away the time to actually do what I’m supposed to in this place. But then again, wasn’t it all just a dream of mine to cope with the reality that I don’t want to deal with the emotions I’ve tried to bury deep within my soul?


As years go by I’ve tried to keep up with you in this race, you had reminded me of who I was and who I wanted to become and I swore that I would spill my heart to you until the day I died. But no more talking about you, because if I do, I might end up hating you too; and that thought would haunt me until blood soaked my shirt while I bit my tongue to keep words from coming out. We’ve made the same mistakes that friends and foes used to do, pretending to be something they’re not and falling for nothing but lies.


Was it all just a lie? As my mind keeps sending the order for my fingers to keep moving it appears that everything gets blurred by the tears that don’t fall anymore. Should I say that I miss you to get some peace of mind? How many times have I tried to move on and I’ve only pulled the string that once held us together. I just want you to know that I’m trying to bury this like you didn’t even have to do. I’m, once again, doing the job for the both of us, because it appears that I was the only one ever holding on to everything.