There's a lot to talk about.
Some things I can say and some things I can't.
I feel like I need my own permission.

I guess what I'm trying to say is,
sometimes you can't always have answers for other people, not even for yourself.

But when you keep persisting to know, you find out more than you want to.

But then I think about it more and more, and maybe things are just meant to be found out if you try hard enough.
Whether they're in your favour or completely opposing.

And you have to deal, all by yourself, with the "answers" you're given.




I could try to make this about you, but I would be wasting my time.
Because I know you'll have another chance
and I won't.

Of course, "everything happens for a reason."
But you can't depend on reason.
And you can't hope for everything.

Once I give up, you'll start trying.
Just like it has been.
It's like watching a horror movie.

Sure, we'll ask people for advice.
We'll ask our family members, our pets, our friends, their friends.
We'll ask anyone who might give us the right answer.
(The one in which we're hoping to find.)

But it's no use.



I had them read what I wrote
and they told me, "Oh you just write so good, why don't you become a writer?"
I feel as if thoughts have carried me away with writing.
Writing only reflects the negative aspects of my life

and everytime I come back to this blank, stupid, pathetic page,
I engulf myself in self-pity and loathe.

It's nice for the most part.
I get to comfort myself in a way that no one else can,
but then I just feel as though I'm using myself.

Using my talent to persue something I don't want to happen to anyone else.
Oh, I wish you could feel it.
But you can't; I won't let you.



There will always be things I can't stop,
but that doesn't mean I should give up.

I hope.