Down on paper it becomes more of a story and less a part of me..

So, I’m going to write it off. Word. By. Word.

Simple as that. I hope. I’m going to stop seeing things in other things that aren’t there. A habit will be a habit out of habit and not out of abuse. A smile will be a smile out of lightness and nothing more. 

I want to start over new. I want something important to depend on me. I want to help some one breathe better. Instead of having people close to me live half lives when I’m around.

I’m never satisfied. I walk around underwhelmed by the most ridiculous circumstance. Life. I want more. I read into the obvious for hidden meaning. Trying to reveal my own mystery. There has to be more. More. More.

In my head, in my sleep, I’ve seen the hardest of things. I’ve lived out my twisted fantasies. I’m forced to fore fit them to the light. Why torment myself if I can’t be the one to decide. If I must wake up right before.. Wake up to this?