I Don't Know how to Be Something You Miss

Whenever dreams become reality, I wonder why I am surprised.

I do not know how to be more clear.

I AM GREAT WITHOUT YOU.

BETTER THAN GREAT.

I HATE YOUR WORDS.

I HATE YOUR THOUGHTS.

I HATE YOUR DECEPTION.

LEAVE. ME. ALONE.

It's Such a Crying Shame, Will It Ever Stop?

Yesterday I wrote about shocking tears. Today they are violent tears. Tomorrow they will probably be homicidal. Watch your back.

Today I learned a lesson. Nothing I ever do will change anyone's mind about me. I can try and try and effort-myself to death, and the results will be...oh, right. I am still me. I cannot change me. I am stuck.

The football went in the net. I collapsed. Was I faking an injury or in a pile of agony? I lost all sense of truth.

Or am I the ball?

I am a metaphor. I compare things without like...or love. "As" would be inappropriate as well. I am the comparison without, the sunshine without, the Hail Mary without. Without. Without like.

In a fortnight I will be through with everything Christmas. Other things, too. Dangerous? Yes.