sick sick sick

i'm sick of crying. i'm sick of feeling sick. i'm sick of being forgotten. i'm sick of never belonging. i'm sick of you never remembering.

okay so maybe i'm a tad jealous

alright. i'll admit. i can't stand it how things are going well for everyone else. it's nice for them, and i wish them well, but i can't help wondering why things aren't so peachy for me. maybe i'm just a grouch, i dunno. well in any case, there's nothing i can do.

hopefulness gets you nowhere. nowhere at all.

and there's a very thin line between faith and wistfulness.

and i think i crossed that line.

maybe today

will be the final day

falling flying

take me with you

how do you describe the way you feel without evoking drama and uncovering dead issues presumably buried in an unmarked graveyard somewhere

it's just too impractical.
it's just too illogical.
i feel lousy that it bothers me.
but brother, it does.
dear you,
if i said i wish i didn't know you, that is probably untrue.
but i wish you would stop bugging me.
yes, you don't call. you don't email. you don't snail mail. etc.
but you don't have to communicate to make me miserable.
i just am.
because of what went down.
because of how i just plainly got left behind.
because of the way that it is different now.
it's nice to know you're not looking back.
but YOU didn't have to deal with being in those places alone.
you didn't have people showering 101 comments on you for what transpired.
you didn't have people pre-judge the situation.
you just went.
and left me these irreconciliable memories.
if there is such a thing.
how can you say you meant it [well] when you gave up so easily?
how can you say "god will surely.." when you couldn't even figure out for yourself what he wanted?
where is the justice in that you always seem to be riding high with your head in the sky and i am here, dealing with the loneliness, and the searing ache, and the ridiculous hopes, and every other illogical misery?
if god was really in charge, how come we end up on 2 different ends of the spectrum?
what's the deal with this?
i hate this. i hate this. i hate this.
if i could collect for you all the tears i've shed over these many months on your account, and if they could incriminate you, i think maybe i've built a solid enough evidence to have you jailed for life.
they should jail you for life.
and let me be the only one with the key.
am i going mad?
maybe.
do i care?
maybe not.
never.
what use is sanity when life only offers you insane things?
you buried me alive.
yes you did.
i hope you live to regret.