It's what we've come to.]
Not a poem, merely a collection of negative ideas that we are.
Compulsive lying is pretty easy to slip into when you know you need to lie.
It's what makes the world go around; lies and smiles to cover them up.
Compared to what I used to be though, I'm a hundredth.
Does that mean I'm a hundredth of myself, or a hundredth of somone I used to be? Or just a part of me is a hundredth of a part of my personality?
Anyway, I know why I started it, and it's ended now. I had become a person I had no intention of being and I'm slowly slipping back into the mould I formed for myself, which is a good thing, though I will definitely stretch outside of it, because I can't be kept within the confines of anything much. Too bad time is a confine. It spirals downwards until you are stuck in the same routine...
I know meanings now. The meaning of secret, of a thought, of the word 'love'. Over and over, I've learnt the meaning of the word act, in more than just the conventional way.
I always just wanted something normal.
Now I've realised that I'm me because I'm not exactly normal, and maybe because I have tried at points TO be.
Worrying is catching.
Caring is overrated, why do humans have to?
I'm leaving inconclusive trails of negative thought when for the last few weeks, I've been more content than ever before in my life. Relationships do seem to do that to a person. It's nice to be to be recognised by someone. Nice to be told "Oh, you're here, you exist... Come to think of it, maybe you actually matter" Every silver lining has a cloud though. I'm yet to figure out what the cloud is, maybe this will disobey the given rule.
Wow, I seem to have a problem with not having a problem. I feel infantile. Childish and unable. Words are inadequate.
I just want to think and to make others think. Is that so much to ask?
Two in a day.
To be fair, I wrote the last one a while ago, I just needed a starting point.