Fake

Why do I even bring that fake smile outside. I know that the moment I get back home it will disappear?
Why do I trust people, when I should have already learned that people can not be trusted?
Why do I let myself end up like this? Broken, lonely and uneasy.
Why won't I ever learn from my mistakes?
Why do I keep on?

Pseudonym

Some people are there to stay, and some are just passing by.
How do you know which ones are your real friends?
They are the ones who stick around when you stop being the person you thought they wanted you to be.

Trust

Trust is scary. I've never in my life truly trusted anybody, and people have never given me reason to do so either, because they will usually disappoint in a way.

I can understand religious people. To trust in God or a higher being that will never truly let you down, seems like a good thing.

Personally, I believe there is only one person I can truly trust, and that is myself.

Words

Something is bothering me. Why does it seem like it is so damn easy for people to use words and phrases they don't really mean? I've done it myself and I know others who've done so.

"I care for you", "I'm here for you whatever happens" and something as simple as "How are you?" All those phrases can be pretty easily faked. What causes people to do that? What causes me to do that?

I personally believe it is all based on the fact that we feel we need to connect with other people - and even worse - belong to other people. We want to be close to somebody and to some people that comes natural. If it works out, good for you, but in most cases it doesn't. We're left living a big lie.

I've made a promise to myself. Never am I ever going to say something I do not mean.

Hiding

Sometimes all I want to do is hide. Today is one of those days.

It’s one of those days where everything seems to go wrong and you feel like you’re on the edge all the time. I don’t know what I’m on the edge of. Madness perhaps.

I’m sick and tired of people. Not everybody but some. The ones that expect me to be a certain way or do certain things. “I didn’t think you were like this”. Hell! This is me. Deal with it.

Sometimes I’m not as strong as I wish I was. Sometimes I break down. That’s when I’m in my most vulnerable state. I tend to leave then. Leave and hide somewhere because I’m afraid to get in somebody’s way. I wish I had my forests around me. When I’m broken that’s where I want to go. The forest surrounds me and hides me from everybody who judges me.

I’m homesick.

Whisky

3 ice cubes, some coke and a small shot of whisky. The smell and the taste. Memories. It feels like coming home. I feel warm. Relaxed. Maybe it’s slowly killing me. But if it is I don’t mind it much. At least not right now. Tomorrow morning is something else. I’ll be hurting when I wake up on the floor. But I’ll be over it by noon.

City’s still alive beneath my window. I see people. I wonder if they know that I’m watching them. And if people are ever watching me like this when I’m out wandering the streets at night. I hope they are.

The ice cubes have all melted. I can’t help but wonder why such a cold drink can make you feel so warm inside.

My glass is empty.

Rain

Rain. Feels cold but refreshing at the same time as it hits my face. A person is walking towards me. We both look down on the ground as we pass by each other. Maybe I missed something really important by not looking at that face. Maybe it was the face I’ve been looking for since forever. A face that you just know the instant you look at it, is what you have been looking for. That one person who is going to understand what you’re all about.

But I don’t look up, because I’m afraid. Afraid of what I’ll see and what that other person is going to see. What if he can see my thoughts. What if he can discover my hidden feelings and emotions. What if it disgusts him. What if it scares him.

Sometimes other people scare me. Sometimes I look up and into another person’s eyes, and what I read in them are lust. The eyes are followed by a suggesting smile. It scares me and makes me angry at the same time. It’s not the fact of being wanted that is the bad part. It’s the fact that they don’t really want me. They want something I can give them. Something they can get from any woman. My special person is going to be somebody who wants me for something that he only can get from me.