Tales of Fake

When is 'enough' enough? I feel like I've been pushing that limit for days... Have you ever felt scared of your own words? Tonight, I find myself reflecting about that. I feel like hell, as if I knew the answers to my questions already, but can't say them out loud. I hate this. That's a lie...I love this. I'm melodramatic, this is what I seek. All day, I search for drama, and maybe this is that. Maybe I'm overreacting, playing with scenarios that aren't even there. Maybe this fear is only here because I want it to be. How sick is that? Sick, of course...but true? Can it be? Can I be this messed up? I know it. I know the answers...I know the words...they'll come out and explode, I know. Can't stop it...can I? Of course I can, I'm the detonator...I'm making this worse.

I feel like the old 'me': looking for reasons to hold onto the pain, the whatever this is. I crave this kind of feelings, I create them.

Fuck! I need someone to understand this. I need distance from things and to feel them close as well. That's why I'm scared. I know the truth, I know what the future holds...but do I want it? What if I don't want to lie on the bed I've made?

Crap, not even the most innocent and lovely desire can pull me out of this one. Even THAT makes me doubt. My mind shouldn't be like this if it felt something different...does it make any sense? ANY SENSE AT ALL? Of course not... My mind's played out like that for a reason, I do it like that. I'm sick and twisted...I can't stop thinking about regret. Lack of it and it being more than enough...

I feel like cursing.