Ugh.

I now find the fact that people read this proves oddly disturbing.

"Miss"

I never wanted to put forward how much I'd suffer from being absent from you. Who wants to admit that they didnt get what they wanted, that they missed out or just missed it completely? I find more then anything that I feel oriented toward some supposed grievance. To some target that I missed. I've tried to make sense that, that failure to hit is mine, and that batch of feelings acts as such and excuse as to why I cant pronounce whats going on.

But then again maybe its because there's nothing perfect to say. I've spent over a year waiting for something incredible to happen. I've held my breath, and forcefully held others as well, hoping that perhaps their breath would help push a miracle along. That some megascopic item would jump infront of me and save the day. Everyone tries to hide their love, and for some reason the love that is hidding from me just causes trouble for those who hide it. Im no exeption to this fact. "Miss" can be defined as an adress for an unmarried woman. Forgive me for finding that extreamly ironic.

I never wanted to put forward how much I'd suffer from being absent from you.

Heart Parts

Its not that I was blind to what other people felt, its just that I was more focused on what I was feeling. Can you attribute responsibility to a person for tunnelling their vision directed toward themselves? Its not that I hadn't asked myself this question before, I had just never come to see how frequently I become angry with those who correspond or who are marked with some resemblance to myself. But thats the truth, and as withdrawn as it may it may seem I am convinced that no ones four chambered parts hurt more then mine do. Except for those four chambered parts hurting somewhere like Hati, or Africa. I could imagine their chambers are so full that even if they had five or six, they would still be bursting.

In a perfect world, we'd all go in and have extra and yet needed spaces installed into our hearts. That way our other chambers could rest, and the hurt could spread out more evenly among our spaces. Maybe then it would be easy. Chamber sugary for the masses. We'd have to go in and have special hurt doctors to evaluate our numbers and hold them up to everyone else's. What number of hurt would you have to be at to be considered a "pre-chamber"?

I cant pronounce the answer. I'm too focused on my hurting four chambers. And tonight, no doubt as they carry blood and the stale oxygen from my room to my limbs, I will fall asleep in trouble.

I thought, there is so much suffering. We're all in trouble.

I want

I want to learn how to say things. I want to be able to explain a material object with or without life in particular respect, or detail. A thought or a statement with something dignified or represented. I want to be able to pronounce if something is correct or fashionable. To be able to go on about a task or a chore, or other articels of service. I want to be able to say the perfect in all things.

I want to use that perfect to make people have a general or thorough conviction of the love I have for them. And how everything will be okay.