"Do they just pretend to like me?" is the kind of insecure questions I've been pathetically asking myself these days, and I wish I knew what's causing them.
I don't know if I've always asked them whispering inside.
And like a fucking plant my voice grew and grew until the present situation. And now it yells from inside of me, and it takes control over all of me, and I don't know how I could possibly make it stop.
Watering it with my tears made it grow bigger and stronger and independent.
Before I used to cry because I felt like doing it and now they take my tears whenever they want.
And I wish I knew how to write everything I'm feeling. I wish wording would help.
But it seems like this time I'm not getting to any conclusion any time before nor after I write the final dot.
This time I don't begin a story with "once upon a time". It was already ended when I first got here. And prolix is all I wanna be so I can keep walking in circles until I can't walk at all.
And shit won't be gotten together for good.
And as adjective subordinate clauses pile up, words get emptier of emotions, until they're nothing, and I can finally feel nothing at all.