Posted on 15 October 1999 by DanielthePoet
the cycle is now complete. it seems that life demands the cycle. everything that begins somehow winds back around until it ends at the beginning. where i was once hurt. i have hurt another. and she will likely do the same to someone else. i did not know of her pain until i heard it in that song. and it said more than i could bear to hear. it was beautiful and it was tragic. it was beautiful because it was tragic. and somehow i managed to feel nothing. nothing but the regret that i felt nothing. alone with the irony of it all playing over and over in my head. where once i felt so vulnerable and dependent on a girl to stay alive. i now see how i have done the same to another. the same as was done to me. and what of all the twisting emotions? where did all the heartbreak go? it was frozen hard so long ago. when it began to snow. to this day i cannot fathom why. i let her mean so much to me. and how different it feels. to try to love today. the past cannot be revived. for this i am grateful. but lingering memories remind me how much it used to cost. to be so close. and now so hollow. like me somehow. you never forget the first. and it stays with you until your last. and like the song said. i could try to love. but i’m still damaged.
written by Daniel Dessinger October 15, 1999Â
Popularity: 2% [?]
Posted on 09 October 1999 by DanielthePoet
everything is utterly futile and meaningless. can i ever express what i feel? there are so many people who need to be shown love. so many that need a good friend. so many that could use a good example. but do i care? do i REALLY care? all of us live our lives looking to impress someone. to selfishly require affection. to feel accepted and valued. we all want to feel valuable. we all want to be special. that is what drives me. to show however much of myself that is necessary so someone will think that i am the greatest. so i hide this and reveal that. whatever it takes to get the result i want. but it never lasts. i can see right through the shit. in myself and others. it’s so hard to keep running when i know i am a fake. i can’t stand it. only a matter of time before i cannot bear to be fake anylonger. when there are no more games to play with others’ emotions. and i’m still not happy. and i still won’t submit. what is left but torture? this is an honest question. i want to know. none of it matters. it never has. who cares if i’m famous, respected, popular, wealthy? i could care less. but if the truth is not faced. what else is there to embrace? honestly, it is either one or the other.
written by Daniel Dessinger October 10, 1999Â
Popularity: 3% [?]
Posted on 05 October 1999 by DanielthePoet
i see you. lost in a sea of people. looking at the ground. avoiding eye contact. yet watching everything as each new day unfolds. feeling so alone. so different from the rest. hoping desperately that no one will notice you as you really are. doing your best to blend. you hide behind a face you think they want to see. or at least are comfortable seeing. they seem so satisfied with their lack of reality. as you try not to rock the boat. wondering if they could ever possibly feel as you do. maybe as they lie down to sleep at night. when there is no one around to impress. maybe then they feel the same.
day in and day out, you watch the show. as one person tries to convice another he is happy. it seems that to admit the truth is unthinkable and unforgivable. for maybe if just one person were to expose his or her emptiness, the sky would break and stars come crashing down. so you remain silent. you burn to pour out all that churns inside. but no. they couldn’t handle it, you tell yourself. and even if you tried, would you be able to express so much? insecurity digs a deep channel in you, as you scold yourself for not playing the game as well as they do. for they seem so convinced that this petty stuff is what life is all about. and so you remain distant. an impassable gulf between you and them. in this you are miserable. yet in this you feel safe. lost in a sea of people. looking at the ground. avoiding eye contact. day in, and day out.
written by Daniel Dessinger October 5, 1999Â
Popularity: 2% [?]
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