1 Just me

I need to confess something. I'm scared. No, I'm more than scared. I'm terrified. Soon, it all will just be memories, or I will forget, and the moment will die. That's how it all works isn't it? Every moment dies and we keep living, until our insides are too dead to be alive and we die too. She told me I should risk, but I fucking can't. I'm too scared to do it and I don't even know what I'm scared about. Maybe I'm scared about leaving or I'm scared of what I'm going to do when I get there. Maybe I'm even more scared about what I'm gonna do when I come back. It all seems so theoretical and distant but I'm scared that time will pass me by. I want to stay still and quiet, so quiet that no one will notice, so their lives will go on, but I'll just be here. I don't know how to live, no one taught me and I think no one knows how to live as well, but it's so damn complicated. Can't we just stop? Decisions and responsabilities — we shouldn't have that. I wish I could live no strings attached to people, things and places. But that's who I am — the needy girl. The girl who needs protection, but finds it in the wrong places and I'm just so stupid. I'm just so desesperated. It's funny how such a needy girl is so needless.

I wonder if I try enough and if the reason I try is enough for the effort. Everything we do is so superfluous, isn't it? So why do we do it anyway? Why does every step we take looks like the end of the world? It's just an incredible adventure we live in and it never ends, just levels up and I'm not ready for this level. Slow it down. I'm losing my control, make my mind stop spinning around. Make it go away. Give me your hand. Whose? No more scars please. I'm too young to have regrets, I'm too young to fear. I'm too old not to do things myself. When will my good be good enough? I don't know how far I can go from here, maybe this is all I can ever be. It's too soon, though. Maybe you don't notice, but I do.

Do you think we should believe in love? I really can't see why and I'm worried it isn't a fase. I'm worried I will never love or be loved. I'm not sure if I love people. I know I depend on them. Don't tell him that. I think I love him. Don't I? Should I? No, I don't, nice to meet you too. Give me back to me. Are people who love happy people? I'm sleepy, I'm crying. I want you all to be happy, I want you all to be okay. I have hated myself and I loved me more back then. Even when you're right you're wrong. Do again, read again, try again. Read read read. I'm tired of reading. I know I know but I can't show you that. You can't know what I know.

Maybe I really wasn't supposed to fit in. Maybe I fell from the wrong cloud, maybe I hit the ground too hard. We are all just little drops of heavenly tears, but maybe I'm a whole rain. I like maybes — it doesn't mean I'm wrong or right, it's just maybe. It's not my fault then if it really is or if it is not. Maybe I'm right. I was listening, yes I was. Maybe it's time to go, but I just don't know. Words wil dry out before I find the right ones to express myself. It keeps getting smaller and smaller. Maybe it's lack of imagination, maybe it's lazyness, maybe I'm too tired to look inside myself and find what is pushing me down.

I'm not the kind of people who falls in love. That's okay, though, because I'm not the kind of people other people fall in love with either.