page 37.
everday for the past 2 weeks
i've written a poem.
some short, some long like essays.
some clever, some wack.
some days, i write 3 poems.
other days just a few lines.
but it helps.
im no poet but, it keeps me from
doing stupid shit.
none of them have titles.
i dont want to label them becuz
most of then come from
a mixture of emotions,
not just one feeling.
its hard to define them.
im not so sure how i feel now.
a little upset and mad.
a little hurt to, but happy also
becuz i have the opporotunity
to just walk away from all this.
just start over and say fuck it.
and chris...he pisses me off so much.
with the way he acts.
i can read him like a fuckin book.
i know he cares, i know this.
but i have my doubts sometimes
even though i shouldn't, its dumb.
he has this way of acting like he doesnt care
and says it. and i know its a lie.
but then i think
"if he's saying he doesnt care when he
really does, then whats he gonna say when
he really doesnt care? how the hell am i
suppose to the difference?"
i use to be able to tell, cuz when he said
he didnt care he still acted like he did.
things are different now.
but i need to stop being so scary
its not helping. been doing the tought girl thing for a while.
why crumble now?
this really isnt the time for meltdowns.
so i just have to put my guard back up.
its safer that way
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