Before you make a bad decision, make sure it isn't 6
AM.
the shirt...it is mostly dependent on the jeans...
is it a man tee? sleeveless? girl cut, close fit?
what are the words on the shirt? are they words of sadness, hope, desperation?
are they my reflections on the past or thoughts for the future? or is it a silent cry...for the present?
would i rather hide behind the humour? or display the emotion on my sleeve?
where am i going...who am i seeing...questions, questions, questions...
it's all up to my brain, i cant decide anymore...constantly at war.
my decisions are never about fashion.
is it a man tee? sleeveless? girl cut, close fit?
what are the words on the shirt? are they words of sadness, hope, desperation?
are they my reflections on the past or thoughts for the future? or is it a silent cry...for the present?
would i rather hide behind the humour? or display the emotion on my sleeve?
where am i going...who am i seeing...questions, questions, questions...
it's all up to my brain, i cant decide anymore...constantly at war.
my decisions are never about fashion.
i used to take so long thinking about what clothes i wanted to wear
for the day, but now the process is so much quicker
nothing has changed about it, except that ive gotten used to it
the polls between the left and right side of my brain,
how do i feel today? about my gender? about my weight? shape?
how to i want to portray myself? am i tough? weak?
am i confident enough to wear tight jeans?
or am i homesick...and wear loose jeans?
lastly do i have open scars? will the red bleed through?
do i want it to bleed through? where am i going today, do i want them to notice and ask if i'm okay?
are they almost healed? will not ruining a pair of jeans be just enough motivation for me to not pick at it?
these are the questions i have grown used to. it's like answering the questions at the hospital. the same ones, over...and over...and over...
you grow used to automatically checking boxes, knowing exactly where everything is on the symptoms sheet...
hardly even throwing a second glance, but still never missing the mark. this is life in my head, and whether i like it or not,
the automatic questionnaire will run, and my brain will answer. i dont think about it too much consciously, but when i do, it scares me.
i automatically reach for the jeans that my brain has decided on...and now it's time to pick a shirt.
nothing has changed about it, except that ive gotten used to it
the polls between the left and right side of my brain,
how do i feel today? about my gender? about my weight? shape?
how to i want to portray myself? am i tough? weak?
am i confident enough to wear tight jeans?
or am i homesick...and wear loose jeans?
lastly do i have open scars? will the red bleed through?
do i want it to bleed through? where am i going today, do i want them to notice and ask if i'm okay?
are they almost healed? will not ruining a pair of jeans be just enough motivation for me to not pick at it?
these are the questions i have grown used to. it's like answering the questions at the hospital. the same ones, over...and over...and over...
you grow used to automatically checking boxes, knowing exactly where everything is on the symptoms sheet...
hardly even throwing a second glance, but still never missing the mark. this is life in my head, and whether i like it or not,
the automatic questionnaire will run, and my brain will answer. i dont think about it too much consciously, but when i do, it scares me.
i automatically reach for the jeans that my brain has decided on...and now it's time to pick a shirt.
HOW CAN YOU
KNOW IF IT IS
THE RIGHT OR
W R O N G
DECISION
IF YOU NEVER
MAKE IT?
I hate decisions. I have a hard enough time deciding what flavour
ice cream I want and now I'm expected to make the most important
decision of my life that will ultimately decide what the rest of my
life will be like. This is beyond stressful, it has come to the
point that I nolonger feel anything.
I don’t know what to do
about you and I
Because I don’t want
to have to say good bye
But you’ve pinned down
my wings so I can no longer fly
