Say Hi.

Poetry is always easier because you get to put the feelings down potently, in a blend of metaphors and reality. It's sharper. But when the feelings are not strong enough, or too strong, then it's time for the prose to be broken out.

The feelings are non-existent
The feelings are my existence.

Okay, no more poetry. So, I seem to be horribly, terribly messed up. I am a ball of tightened wits screaming for attention.

Okay, I'm done resisting the metaphors. It's apparently inherent in my writing.  But back to the wits. I feel so tightened. It's not really pain, it's not like the acute feelings that I used to have. It's tight but it's a blur--it's not clear cut what's wrong. Or maybe it is.

When I try to verbalize it, all I get is a jumble of not-quite-right metaphors and tiredness and hunger and lack thereof.

My feelings used to make me restless, to provoke me to action. Now all that's left is bitterness. I feel like the beauty has been drawn out.

I feel like a monster--an attention-seeking, ugly-looking, workaholic, falsely humble monster.
And honestly, I don't feel like doing anything about it. I've tried to get over it--it doesn't work. I cringe when I see other people getting hugs because despite my hardened, put-together, blur, concrete(*inserts negative connotation) exterior, I want to express my feelings to other human beings. But I also don't want to come across as needy. Sometimes I just mask my real insecurities with false ones and then I just look like I'm dabbling in false humility about things that aren't really bothering me.

I am calling myself names and smiling bitterly. I am swearing off being passive aggressive to others but I treat myself that way constantly. I'm thankful that I'm not sexually attractive or so many guys would have taken advantage of me. I'm just me. Alone. Overly emotional and overly apathetic at the same time.

Say hi to the monster.