True Story

I never thought I could love again/ but I was wrong...I was wrong/ Thought that part of me was gone/ but I was wrong...I was so wrong/ I know I'm certain to go mad/ since she came along// No one's wanted my love before so why would she?/ The only thing I have to give her is me/ No money, no fancy jewels/ all she would get is a fool// That's how I feel. I can still can love a beautiful woman; should I hate myself even more for that?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

pieces of mind

I think I am starting to fall apart. Don't worry about me; I'll be fine. I had written a couple of paragraphs expanding on my opening statement, but an evil computer shut down in the midst of my explanations and wiped out all I had written. I tried for a minute to use my wracked brain to remember what I had said, then I decided it was too depressing to go through all over again. Something about pathetic analysis, it's only fun the first time around. There was my bad ankle, and emotional instablity, and how the richer white people are the creepier they are. That's hardly anything Nobel prize worthy. I don't think this blog would ever win a Nobel prize, but there was nothing I wrote that I genuinely regret having lost. I had resolved not to do that kind of entry anymore, anyway, but there I was, examining my psyche and worrying about something I can't control. Though I guess the fact that I can't control my feelings is a reason for concern. But in the wor
Read more

Denial

How would my life be different if I had accepted myself for who I am? I'd probably have had someone who loves me, maybe even a lot more money. Why have I been so cruel to myself, yet so kind to others, many of whom gladly take advantage of my kindness and give little in return. For example, I promised to explain what makes me who and what I am in our last episode, but here I am, refusing to explore that subject. It's all so deep, and to go there dredges up forces I dread, some beyond my control. It makes me want to cry, and I hate tears, especially my own. If I promise to explore this subject next time, it could just be another false promise, like all the promises ever made to me. Just thinking about it makes me want to tear off my shirt and scream, but I must control myself, since my shirt is a homage to Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention (Freak Out)and I love Zappa's music much more than I could ever love myself. I believe it's my self-loathing that keeps me
Read more

Experiment

My little experiment of 2 days ago failed. No one checked out my blog yesterday just because it had queer in the title. Such a pity, for I feel it was a fairly good piece, if it was somewhat demented. If only someone had commented, then I would have had a clue.
Read more