Ma, you set the standard too
low. Now whenever he smiles at me i'm at his feet. i had to
slowly set standards for myself. i became harder on others.
he's nicer to me than you ever were. it's strange. I only
got to learn this through him. Pa, he wasn't being overly
nice. He was just being himself, but i applauded his every move.
He's teaching me to have higher standards for myself and the
people around me. I can be picky with him. He doesn't get mad
like you both did. He actually listens and tries to do better by
me. Isn't that crazy? I don't always have to be the one
bending backwards. Sometimes i'm not wrong. But that's
not how it was before. These past thoughts trickle in sometimes
and i need to catch myself. The bar was so low. I didn't know
i was raised to appreciate things that were below the bare
minimum. it's almost like i deserve the same love i give. who
would have thought.
You think
you’ve
seen her
naked
because
she took
her clothes
off? Tell me
about her
dreams.
Tell
me what
breaks
her heart.
What
is she
passionate
about,
and what makes
her cry?
Tell me
about
her childhood.
Better
yet, tell
me one
story
about her
that you’re not
in.You’ve seen
her skin,
and you’ve touched
her body.
But you
still
know as
much
about
her
as a book
you once
found,
but never
got around
to opening.
there's this thin glass
box. it let's every bad thing in and keeps it trapped inside.
everything good bounces off and is reflected elsewhere. outside
this glass box the world is so beautiful. it's full of every
love imaginable. there's security, trust and even happiness.
this glass box is so thin. it's so fragile. i keep trying to
break out of it. i want to enjoy this world too. how did i get
trapped inside? i ruminate over this thought until i reach an
answer. it let's every bad thing in.
you would be
so surprised. i would get to you in time. before the
moonlight fades and the new sun rises. before you can even
take the first breath, i'd appear. you would be so
surprised. looking for your secret place. if i took this turn
and peer through this window, can i still see it? your
cheeks, ears, nose, mouth. before this evening ends, i would
see the look in your eyes. you would be so
surprised.
if i could see myself through your eyes, would i like myself more? would i be pretty? do i have kind eyes? in my eyes you're the most handsome. kind eyes and warm smile. am i a bit like that too? i don't know myself. i need you to tell me who i am. shape me into what you want me to be. i don't like me right now. i didn't like past me either. Paint me in such a way that even i like me. so we don't get sick of me.
when you get sick of me-- no i have to get sick of you
first. odd upper under hand ideology. why can't we be equals?
why am i competitive in even love? it's just the two of us
but i don't know anything else. i have to love you harder,
get sick of you quicker. i get sick of people. is it normal?
i'm already worried about you getting sick of me. it's
stupid. it's not cute. when i'm sick of someone i stop
caring. i stop making time, i stop playing nice. playing nice.
even in my stream of consciousness this comes out. it's all
acting, playing. my true feelings are coming out. i love you but
even now i worry about who will fall out of love first. burdened
and anxious over useless concerns. i'll cross that bridge
when i get to it, i can't just burn it now. that's all i
know. upper hand, under hand. insecure mess who needs you to feel
important. if you don't like me anymore then i don't like
me. it's dangerous.
