still.

I hate how long it’s been, how I haven’t needed a place to write because I’ve had nothing to say. I’ve come so long and so far, completely different and utterly the same. I’m getting restless and my mind wanders, I hate feeling this way because this is when I make mistakes, this is how I could ruin everything. I wrap myself up in fantasy and daydreams, when I sleep they turn in to nightmares, where I’m always running, but only sometimes being chased. I see old phone numbers and it haunts me and it feels so real, so much so that when I wake up it takes a few minutes to bring me back to reality, remember that today is just the same as yesterday and undoubtedly just like tomorrow. How can that bring me comfort sometimes and others feel like absolute agony, like a death within itself. I always thought I’d be someone, go somewhere, do somethings. The reality is much more depressing and sometimes I am so glad I can’t remember anything because then I don’t have to remember what I’ve lost and who I was and what got me here. I am an adult now, but I don’t always feel like it. So many words I’ve written still feel so real and I know I’ve lost that kind of honesty, I keep it to myself now, pushed down real deep, because if we all always said how we felt then we could never keep anybody close and we would never have anything to call our own. And in this life that is all we have, even if half the time we’d really rather we didn’t. Yes, some things never really do change, and people, well they never do, not really, not forever.