smh.

i watch and i see.

you only pretend when you have something to hide, or if you're being paid for it. so you must be hiding something.

if you show everybody around more love than you show me, it must mean that everyone around is more loved by you than i am.

if you do something that hurts my feelings in order to spare someone else's, that persons feelings must mean more to you than mine do.

if my name is always mentioned after somebody else's, someone came before me. i was after first, not first-which is where i need to be in order to be with you.

what's even worse, is that you don't realize it. your insides are talking, telling me where your interests lie.

i wish i was respected as a writer. everyone loves my shit, if they care enough to take the time to read it. you don't. my offers to edit go unused. like a coupon on a date that you're too embarrassed to use.

there is a crack somewhere in my force field. i'm letting the pressure in. i'm letting the speculation in. i think i am experiencing intimidation for the first time. i think i feel speechless, thoughtless, loveless, empty. feel, just a feeling. at this moment, and a few others. i know i'm not any of those things, though. just this new thing called insecurity talking; i think thats what this is. i know i bleed/sweat/cry cups of awesome, spilling over the brim that could never be high up enough. i am glitter, gossamer, gloss, sunbeams, sunshine, the hope and help at the end of the yellow brick road, the kind of love that makes hearts bleed with this over-sized/over-worked blood pump pumping in my chest. the lover that gives too much, without my lover knowing. undercover over-lover that can't recover because i won't be able to love if i do. recover what was never lost? i didn't lose more than he did. giving up some of me always seems to be too much. i cry for me. not for you. i cry for what i allowed myself to do to myself by being here. staying here.

i just realized that i am between selves. i'm being pushed by the old me, and pulled by the me that is to come. its painful. confusing. my wilderness inside of me. hope i don't have to roam for 40 years before i'm free. freedom. funny. i was put here. made this way. creation of the Creator to serve my purpose of worshiping Him. if loving you isn't worship, then what am i doing it for? good question nina. you are so confined by conflict, you allow your body to do what your minds know you shouldn't. blocking out the sounds of screams of warning. run, nina, run. but you don't hear me, do you? you will, the echoes of my screams will bounce off of the vibrating walls of your subconscious until they reach you. hope it isn't too late when they do.