They don't see the nights we cry, tears flooding the pools of our thoughts when the destination we sought to success had crumbled beneath us....especially when they are often the ones to put us there or leave us...
We start to stare in the mirror...expecting to find endless faults like the faculties of finding finance or the romance fading every time you and I dance or the fact that you didn't see it before....until someone who knew nothing of you pointed it out...giving you doubt
You start to notice the growing collection, the variety, and the results of your anxiety growing on the dresser in your cell...I mean your room, in the form of bottles you shared with yourself and the voices locked away, taunting you with the four horsemen: Jim, Jack, Johnny, and Jose
Debilitating, with no hope of rehabilitation, and forgetting why you woke up, which was to find your destination or the moment you can prove to yourself that your life is always worth saving...while dealing with the flaws you truly had no business facing...since they didn't exist prior to your awakening
These descriptions the people have lifted from dictionary and imagination alike are used to put your soul on a spike of classless and perpetual strife and were only used to hurt you due to their lack of a life...like calling you fat, stupid, dumb, too black or too white, specially challenged, or even two dangerous adjectives: ugly and inadequate
Ugly isn't the lack of makeup, breasts, ass, or a figure...You're not a Barbie doll, go figure. You're not the clothes you put on, you're not the number on the scale, but you are the end result of conducting a train you allowed to be derailed
Inadequacy isn't the lack of length, girth or emotion...there are those who aren't willing to give acceptance and make you the exception because they have received and want what they've expected... but there are those who have nothing to face but rejection and would accept you without question
Why me? Why her? Why him? How much more do I have bend? What am I missing? If I had it, would it help? Would you ever let me in? At what point does this insanity end? It doesn't...because you allow these questions to control your destiny...and the means you have to mend
Being alone hurts, even if you're too dead inside to express it because you're weighed down trying to digest contradictory messages of what perfect is or what it is supposed to be...Why change? Not because it's what's better....supposedly....
We change to fit into a world that reveals our flaws...so we can still be accepted by those who don't know us at all...and we lose ourselves: these melodies, these verses, these songs and we're forced to wonder: why even be born and not aborted considering how much we're changed and sorted?
How is it the world's fault when the vision of self is distorted?
You can only give power to what has no power and burn when you stand so much closer to fire... There may be times when you want to die when he says no because you're not his type...because you didn't run those twelve laps in gym... She would say no to her ever being your wife...assuming she would even be your girlfriend to begin this process of wanting a different "him" with whom she'd share her life with
No one knows you better than you do, so do you. In this world, communication is necessary, even when considering the results which are scary, often staged and clearly tuned with black skies so dreary.
I've said much in this time, using my pain my observations alongside my rhythm and rhyme, but I don't want to lose you... Being alone hurts, being lied to is worse, but that's the end results of expecting the world to treat you in a manner less than perverse... So, as you retire to your songs that have been playing in the background... I ask you to walk away from the fire...
If you understand you're perfect from birth, don't let the world make you a liar.
~Stephen A. Johnson
