Corks and curry.

You make me smile. But I'm frail and small and broken. And all the pieces arn't there and some are a little too worn down to fit. I'm scared that even if I try real hard to glue it all together, to pick it up and lay it down that even then I'll still be too frail and broken beyond repair. But my hands feel small inside yours and your head feels real nice against mine. And I want to give without instantly pulling back and pulling away. I want to cave in and float away but I'm heavy in the heart and in the head and afraid that if I let it out you won't like what you see and I'll just float away. Alone. What I'm trying to say is, why can't I just give into you? To make a move and not be afraid. That I'm too broken and used. That I'm not who you think I am. That you'll reject me. That I'm not good enough. That I don't know what I'm doing or how to do this.

And it's too late for wanting.

Sometimes I wonder, let's just fall in love and be together.

Biology

And that's the thing, I'm a mess. And not a hot mess, a legit mess. I change my clothes at least 2 times a day because I can't even figure out an outfit enough for who I want to be. Who I should be. And I change my mind constantly and have fits of irrational thoughts, like if I am good enough or who will I become? And maybe half the time I'm just in for the trill of the chase. Out to prove to myself that I can get what I want and then after that, well, then what? And I don't have the answers to that because all that running has taken away my breath. And my boyfriend died and I'm easily attatched. But not to you but as who you could be, maybe by chance if you were him. Because I'm still grieving and taking it day by day and I never thought I could ever love again. And maybe it's forced feelings or my raging hormones that are attracting me to everyone and anything. But desires take over and as a species we aren't meant to be alone. So maybe this is all a great deal harder then I thought it was going to be, this whole growing up and living deal.

Today

Guilt is like white noise, grinding away at your ear drums.
You know, the sound that will eventually fade into background noise.
But for now it drones on, causing a headache even the strongest advil can't chase.

Lie, lie.

When it comes down to it, you are not going to like me for who I am. You are going on believing in the person you think I am. First impressions. Wrong impressions. The truth is, I'm always broke. I have nothing to show for the work I do. I live pay cheque to pay cheque with nothing to show in between. I spend my money on momentary happiness with compete disregard for the future. I function off caffeine and nicotine and I don't try to hide it. I go through extended periods where I just don't eat. Maybe I'll snack on this or that. Maybe I will forget. But mostly I just can't afford it. You could understand, or you could think I'm crazy. But you won't like it either way. I have two levels to me, or perhaps two sides. Too loud or too quiet. There is no inbetween. I'm always trying to fill the silence or fall into it. So I can't hide my emotions. Neither can my face. It says it all, no matter how hard I conseal it.

One mistake

If I take my vitamins and smoke alot that's almost the same as eating right?
Right..?