sick

so i write and sometimes I'm even honest and I tell you who I am and what I think and sometimes, sometimes...if it matters...my feelings...or maybe just perceptions, because in the end that's all it is anyway...but I never thought I'd step inside and see what really fucking scares me. Cuz you know I act like it's so many things...closed-mindedness, and liars and people who are 'normal' but in fact, what I am afraid of, what lingers inside like a dog biting thru bone, is the fact that people like me...people think I'm smart, people think I'm funny and capable and that I pay attention...they think all of this and yet I'm still not good enough. Boys and girls can fuck me and laugh at my jokes but my nights are still spent crucifying myself over the fact that I don't know the feel of the soft skin of the one person who loves me, who wants to hold me...I can be the friend and bare the crosses of loves unfulfilled and I can take the sacred secret ramblings of men drunk on the hatred of a girl who hurt them and I can do this with the full knowledge that God made me with soft hands, and a heart of boundless breadth and that of all the things my mother taught me, Love was the most important…and then respect and I know these things like I know how to breathe and still I am alone….I’m sick of being your friend. I’m sick of having you cry to me about how misunderstood you are. I’m sick of being good enough to be your warm wet hole, but not good enough to hold your hand in public…and I am so fucking sick of knowing that I have all you could ever need and yet still being nothing of what you want…