old, love.

i found this stored away in some electronic device of mine. i read it, and i love it. personal, but this is how i felt at the moment. i captured it. loserly behinds, lol.

I am a victim. Not of verbal abuse, or some ridiculously obtuse deducement about my personality, life, or appearance. (even if i am, i dont care. lol) . Not of a drive by shooting, or a lollipop thief. Not of a discouraging disappointment of a parent. I'd EVEN like to think that im not a victim of societal subliminal messages. But still, i am a victim. A victim of instability of the heart & mind. A victim of inconsistency. Emptiness of words that i definitely dont believe, but should be able to. I, dear reader, am a victim of the wavering attention span. That sentence should be capitalized, italicized, and in BOLD letters. It hit me like the surface of water after a high dive. And it hurt. Initially, i couldnt help but wonder if it was something about ME that pushes them away. Something that pulls them in, intrigues, compels, inspires. Inspires poetry, texts, emails, visits, a mild obsession. And last but not least, those three small, heavy, hollow words. Just words. Weighty, but empty. Meaningless to the conveyer, tumultuous to the recipient. If the recipient isnt me of course. But it doesnt matter, because it could be. Should be. I want a love that shakes my world up. Off the Richter Scale type shit. But i think. Maybe a bit too much at times. When it comes to this, im usually right though. Like i was saying: the person is there, full immersion going on. Trying to get a full pass to Ninaland. Then, he's gone. Is this some sick game they play to see how far it'll go? I've tried to figure it out, but almost immediately gave up on that because i cant explain why people do what they do. I can only come up with theories, because they are gone. To somebody else, some other place, deeper into themselves. Too deep to explain themselves to little ole me. So im left to let go. Which im pretty good at if i may say so myself