Also I might be having an identity crisis.
I just keep putting words on these papers in this book, thinking the answer is bound to come falling out of me.
But I'm half way through this one and none of this shit makes sense yet.
None of this pain is diminishing.
And I thought you would walk this path with me since you could understand the language my soul spoke, but I didn't realize your comprehension didn't neutralize your ability to be just as mean as they are.
But honestly I'm just drowning in double standards right now and it's making me realize that sharing a life with you people is killing me.
I want the biggest words on my tombstone to be 'I wish you loved me more.'
And when you look at them and think, "I did", I assure you I didn't know it.
I didn't know I came before your pride and misunderstandings.
I didn't know I came before your anger and hatred.
I didn't know my mistakes were forgivable or that you were even fucking happy I was here.
See, you want to shout your love when someone dies, when they tell you your love cannot be felt, but why aren't you shouting your love while I cry myself to sleep?
Why aren't you shouting your love when I'm telling myself I don't REALLY want to die?
Why aren't you shouting your love while I stuff myself back into my cage, conforming myself back into what society wants me to be?
If you think this is showing love then I would like to challenge you don't know real love.
Because I don't know that you love me, the me that doesn't fit in this cage, the me that doesn't conform to you to save myself.
I keep writing but... Nothing is getting better, no answers are being found, love is not getting easier to feel and the world is tearing itself apart.