People are always getting mad at me for telling them “You don’t understand.”
You get so used to me being a dumb bottle blonde whose hair is a little too damaged, to realize that my hair isn’t the only part of me damaged. You start to listen to me, read what I write and look into my eyes when I speak. You cant understand how the girl making you question every life decision you’ve ever made is the same girl who asked what Obama’s’ last name was.
I don’t expect people to pay attention to me. I’m sorry for making you think and for lying about how smart I really am. I’ll let you in on something big; I’ve never wanted to be this way. I write down my thoughts for you hoping to pass them on let them escape and leave me alone. Day and night I lay awake pondering life. Wondering why he left. How did I fall for her lies. Why am I so stupid. Wishing I didn’t get away with everything. Hoping to get caught so I can be stopped. I promise, I don’t want to live this life but when the life you think I’m living is chasing me away I have no where else to go because you locked me out and now my escape plan has been ruined so I run around spilling drinks, catching fire to curtains and crying loudly hoping that you hear.
I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for hurting myself. I never realized you cared. I never realize anybody cares. and maybe in the high of the night I can convince myself you meant it last time you told me you loved me, but I always wake up knowing that your love has no meaning towards me. So next time I speak to you listen closer and read between the lines because before you label me as stupid try to remember some people hide between the black and white boundary’s of their story.
allaboutbeingalive 