Every moment exudes the darkness, the night, the sense of diswakening from the world. The owls don’t hoot, the moon doesn’t shine and my eyes fail to close because they are tired of the night. Everything ends with night, daylight brings beginnings, hope, action. night brings endings, sleep and nightmares.
I tried to tell myself that I don’t care, that I don’t overthink, that I try to pretend that I have less emotions about this certain someone. But the more I deny that myself, the more that it hurts and its doing me no good. Its better to be honest that I do feel lonely right now.
i have tried. so much. so often. with so much energy. and with no result. still coming home at the end of the day to spend the evening alone and no one to talk to except the walls. to be shut inside my room with nobody else and realising that I don’t like myself that much. He was right all along when he suggested that.
i tried
and i tried
to not be so cruel.
it took time
and patience
and a nap
here and there.
i put forth
all my effort
and opened my
mind and soul,
to only be broken
when the result came
and all i could do
was sit in shame.
“Look, I gave it my best shot, what more do you want?”
“I don’t know, but this isn’t good enough.”
“Wow, thanks, really love it. That’s awesome.”
“Will you please stop, I’m not happy about this either, but we have to re-do it.”
“I don’t want to re-do it… I want it to be done and it is, so let’s just call it done.
We were not getting anywhere, no matter what I said she just stood there waiting. It is not the trying that was the problem. I did not want to climb up there. When would getting on the roof be the answer to anything; this is going to end badly.
I tried to trust him. I tried to believe him. He told me he was set for life. He told me that his job was stable, that he’d quit drinking, that he was paying attention to his friends and family again. I let him back into my life because I thought he’d gotten better. Not cured, but rehabilitated. I TRUSTED him on that.
But three weeks later, he was unemployed. He came home with a bottle of gin and drank the whole thing in one sitting. Then he closed himself up in the spare bedroom and didn’t talk to me for two days.
We kept on marching through the tired and the needy splayed ontop of each other on the side of the street. We had no choice. Every direction we turned more appeared as if to salute our parade forward through the streets. There was little to distinguish us from them, except that we were moving and they were still, they were begging and we were perfoming. We continued moving towards the setting sun, blinding oursielves in its rays.
Every moment exudes the darkness, the night, the sense of diswakening from the world. The owls don’t hoot, the moon doesn’t shine and my eyes fail to close because they are tired of the night. Everything ends with night, daylight brings beginnings, hope, action. night brings endings, sleep and nightmares.
I tried to tell myself that I don’t care, that I don’t overthink, that I try to pretend that I have less emotions about this certain someone. But the more I deny that myself, the more that it hurts and its doing me no good. Its better to be honest that I do feel lonely right now.
i have tried. so much. so often. with so much energy. and with no result. still coming home at the end of the day to spend the evening alone and no one to talk to except the walls. to be shut inside my room with nobody else and realising that I don’t like myself that much. He was right all along when he suggested that.
They really tried. The lawn was a war field now, the coaches were generals, the goals were their weapons, the players were the soldiers.
i tried
and i tried
to not be so cruel.
it took time
and patience
and a nap
here and there.
i put forth
all my effort
and opened my
mind and soul,
to only be broken
when the result came
and all i could do
was sit in shame.
“Look, I gave it my best shot, what more do you want?”
“I don’t know, but this isn’t good enough.”
“Wow, thanks, really love it. That’s awesome.”
“Will you please stop, I’m not happy about this either, but we have to re-do it.”
“I don’t want to re-do it… I want it to be done and it is, so let’s just call it done.
The world is unforgiving, life is hard. Merely trying is not enough. You could have tried, but you need to try better!
Was the morning a minute which tried to be much longer?
Where does all the tried out method take me?
This is coffee time.
‘Have you tried to do it?’ she asked.
We were not getting anywhere, no matter what I said she just stood there waiting. It is not the trying that was the problem. I did not want to climb up there. When would getting on the roof be the answer to anything; this is going to end badly.
I tried to trust him. I tried to believe him. He told me he was set for life. He told me that his job was stable, that he’d quit drinking, that he was paying attention to his friends and family again. I let him back into my life because I thought he’d gotten better. Not cured, but rehabilitated. I TRUSTED him on that.
But three weeks later, he was unemployed. He came home with a bottle of gin and drank the whole thing in one sitting. Then he closed himself up in the spare bedroom and didn’t talk to me for two days.
We kept on marching through the tired and the needy splayed ontop of each other on the side of the street. We had no choice. Every direction we turned more appeared as if to salute our parade forward through the streets. There was little to distinguish us from them, except that we were moving and they were still, they were begging and we were perfoming. We continued moving towards the setting sun, blinding oursielves in its rays.